


Eyeless Jack's Terrible Idea

by Overlord



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Amnesia, Awkwardness, Canon-Typical Violence, Crimes & Criminals, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Dubious Science, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Horror, Hospitals, Idealism, Illnesses, Improves as it goes on, Major Original Character(s), Manipulation, Monster Hunters, Monsters, Multi, Original Character-centric, Original Universe, Platonic Cuddling, Reimagining, Science Experiments, Secret Organizations, Serial Killers, Slow Build, Spies & Secret Agents, Supernatural Elements, Unethical Experimentation, Unethical Medicine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 13:21:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 48
Words: 67,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlord/pseuds/Overlord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eyeless Jack, amnesiac monster, is on a journey of self-discovery with his creepy new friend(?) Jeff the killer, and other colorful characters. Hilarity, violence, mushy romantic feelings, and awkwardness ensue. However, a much more sinister plot is contained within, and the truth is very dangerous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spying

**Author's Note:**

> Salutations. I also have this work posted on fanfiction.net, so just in case anyone thinks I'm copying it over without permission, I'm not.

Jack sighed happily, safely nestled in a tree and without a care in the world. Well, not really, he was just pretending it was that way. He wasn't relaxing, he was spying. On a murderer, no less.

Jack himself was no saint, but on a good day he didn't kill anyone- only borrow a few unneeded organs. He wasn't sure how his mind put it as 'borrow', since he never returned anything. He ate them because he got a hunger. It was no human hunger, of course. He didn't even have to eat at all normally, not until he felt it. Why of all things, was it for human flesh? 

It was something out of a terrible horror movie, the need for a different kind of meat that clawed at his insides and caused him to go mad. Eyeless Jack, they called him. He gladly embraced the name, not having anything else to identify himself with- although that made it sound like he went around introducing himself in the first place, which he certainly did not. Not usually, unless faced with a more peculiar situation.

This was probably one of those situations.

Wandering was the norm for Jack. He had a remote cabin of his own he would stay in sometimes, but his way of living called for something a little less permanent, and so left him dragging himself around constantly. For the time that wasn't spent seeking those poor people he could end up traumatizing or even killing, he looked for some kind of clues as to what he was and what the hell he could do about it.

In his blind searches, he didn't discover answers, but stories. Stories about people and the strange occurrences that went on. Some things were merely curious, while others had made even someone like Jack want to be sick- although the best he could do was choke out some black sludge, another thing Jack wanted answers on. The dark disgusting slime that dripped out of his mouth and eyes constantly, leaving a never-leaving bitter taste in Jack's mouth. He had learned to live with it, but it was never truly comfortable.

The things these stories told of were horrifying, and not unlike himself. It was a start, if anything, to investigate these things. Although he felt he was pushing himself into a dead-end again, he had to try. It felt stupid, seeking out monsters that seemed far worse than himself, but anything to hold onto was worth a try, and Jack had plenty of time to spare.

That was what lead him here, creeping around in hopes of what, to talk to a serial killer? A nice, friendly chat? To feel some sort of special connection, like in any cheap romance? Yes, that was exactly what Jack wanted, it seemed. Too late to turn back now, right?

So he watched the small man with the terribly mutilated face do his work, slicing the innocents up in every way you could think of. A vague voice pushed in the back of Jack's mind, telling himself that if he really wanted to, he could've stepped in- saved the humans. This guy may be skilled, mainly for his seemingly strong amount of passion in murder, but Jack never felt a bit of pain and healed himself instantly, and would possibly be able to overpower or at least outlast the other. 

But then he would he a hypocrite, wouldn't he? Jack shooed away the guilt threatening to weigh him down, instead offering promises of answers or companionship in it's place. 

No, _no,_ not companionship. He did not need to become good pals with a psychopath with a strange face. But then again, Jack was also a psychopath with a strange face. The hypocrisy returns.

After decidedly everything that moved was dead, the man stood in silence among the bodies, perhaps taking the time to appreciate his work. What is it one would think at that point, anyway? 'Job well done that is, stabbing all of these innocent civilians,' and then they give themselves a pat on the back? Or is it something more along the lines of 'Ah, the blood of the innocents... I will now drink it and pray to the dark lords...'?

Right, no. Jack will never ask that question to any actual psychopaths, his pondering ends up with stupid things sometimes. Only sometimes? No, correction, most of the time they do, but that happens when you've been alone for so long.

The last time he had looked the man had been seemingly admiring the death his actions had so purposefully brought, but Jack realized he had turned and had been staring almost straight at him for more time than felt comfortable. It wasn't as though he _saw_ Jack, it seemed, but he knew something was there. Knowing that permanently etched on smile and unblinking eyes had been directed so close to him sent a shiver of discomfort, but also a spark of interest. The contradicting feelings settled finally on the refusal to back down from this terrible idea, as Jack dropped himself from the tree at last.


	2. First impressions

Ah hell. Gracefully leap down from your tree, he told himself. Make a good first impression, he told himself. Did he manage either of those things, if not at least one? No! No he didn't. Instead, he slipped on a branch and fell straight into a bush. _Real inconspicuous of you, Jack._

Okay, well, he's really good at falling right into bushes. That must seem very impressive. If anyone ever asks what skills he has, he can now proudly tell this person that he's simply remarkable at falling into bushes on his ass. Whoop de do.

If he brushes off all of these stupid leaves before the insane guy comes out to investigate, maybe he can pretend it never happened. Why did he have to be so pathetic around others, anyway? Aren't monsters supposed to be cool? Monsters are definitely supposed to be cool, there should be some kind of place to complain about this. 'Excuse me, I'm a monster, but I'm not totally badass all of the time. I think there was some kind of mistake here! I demand a refund', he'd tell them. refund of what, and who are these people he'd be complaining to? He's just letting his head think of stupid things again.

Jack stands up properly now, brushing himself off quickly. It was rather cold night, but Jack enjoyed the cool breeze. Not that he could feel much of it on much other than his hands, since the rest of his body was protected by his trademark clothes and the mask on his face. The mask somehow made him feel safe, more secure. Something to shield out the world with. Not always for his own protection, but for the ones on the other side.

Jack didn't want to go in that house. That wasn't his territory, and it had been so obviously marked as belonging to someone else entirely. Outside in the open air was a neutral zone, at least for now.

So Jack stood still and waited. He waited as the killer openly gazed at him from a window, seemingly determining what to do with him. He waited as the murderer came out, stopped when they only had a small distance between them, and examined him quite thoroughly. Jack made no protest to this, and allowed the other to try to look him over to his heart's content, something which seemed to slightly please this madman. Of course it was clear he could never lose the smile that was cut into his face, but small sparks of emotion pointing towards it were something Jack didn't have such a hard time picking up on. For being a killer, Jack was good with feelings.

Jack felt a frown pulling at his face under the mask, a bit uncomfortable with the amount of time that had gone by without either of them speaking. It was probably going to force him to speak up first, otherwise risking the other losing interest in him.

"Hello?" Jack finally murmured, voice a little shaky due to not needing to use it for so long.

The murderer's eyes lit up, unsettling grin widening with them.

"You can speak?" He asked, sounding quite excited by this discovery, although also a bit alarmed. Like he was having a hard time deciding if he wanted to stab Jack or hug him. Okay, that was a bit of an odd explanation, but Jack was simply being honest and it made enough sense to him. The killer sort of looked like he wanted to do both in the end.

"I would hope it sounds like I'm speaking well enough, I haven't had the need to in a long while," Jack explained, voice still rather shaky. He hoped the shakiness would go away soon. _Well, practice makes perfect, right?_

"Good, good... What are you, exactly?" The other asked, continuing the interrogation. He had a slightly scratchy, growly voice, Jack observed thoughtfully. Rivaling Jack's softer, quieter one perfectly. It seemed to fit him.

"I don't know, but I would very much like to find out," Jack replied.

"Is this your face, or a mask?" The killer questioned demandingly, even going so far as to tap the front of his mask, intruding Jack's personal space further. 

Not that Jack would complain, he didn't care all too much if people did or didn't touch him anyway. "It's a mask."

"And why do you wear it?"

"No reason at first, I just woke up with it. It brings a bit of comfort now, hides my face from humans."

"What's that stuff coming out of your eyes?" The serial killer gestures to his empty eyes, meaning the black muck. "It looks kinda tasty," the kid finished, snickering.

Jack made a suspicious noise, crossing his arms. " _Tasty?_ Are you being serious with me? It's some kind of black sludge, and I can tell you straight up it tastes horrid!" His voice was less shaky now, that was good at least. Apparently getting a bit irritated helped. Jack took in a breath of air, biting his lip. "I don't know what it is. I don't really know much of anything about myself. All I know is that I'm not human, and I have a hunger that can't be satisfied by normal means. You have it too, don't you? A hunger. Even though you're still human, we're the same."

The other stood still for a few moments, taking all of the information in.

"The... same?" He breathed, emotions indecipherable at that time. "What kind of hunger do you get, then?"

"I... well, to be blunt, I eat people. I mean, sometimes I just take parts that they can live without and leave them alive, but other times... you can put the pieces together, right?" Jack growled, a small bit of guilt in his tone.

"A monster with _morals?_ Oh, this will be fun..." The murderer said mockingly, snickering again.

"Real hilarious, thanks," Jack mumbled, for once wishing he could roll his eyes.

"So like, what, you're on some kinda mission to discover your true identity? Or are you just trying to make new friends?" The other said, tone still slightly mocking.

"A little bit of both, actually."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Huh. What's your name, anyway?" The psychopath asked thoughtfully, giving an expectant look.

"Jack."

"Kinda close to mine. I like that. What about your title?"

"My _what now?_ "

"You know, your title. They must call you something."

Jack smiled, as he actually knew this one, for once. "Eyeless Jack."

"Catchy. I'm Jeff, and as my 'fans' call me, Jeff the killer," Jeff stated proudly, grinning again. 

He probably just made that title up himself, for all Jack knew.

"Jeff, right, that was it, I kept referring to you as 'the crazy guy' in my head..."

"You what?" Jeff growled, seeming slightly offended. However, Jack had spoken quietly enough to still be able to deny it.

"What? Nothing. I didn't say anything, just talking to myself."

"Oh, I do that all the time," Jeff said cheerily, acting as though it was a similar interest or hobby they could bond over. Well, maybe for him it was, and Jack would take _any_ kind of bonding after all of the lonliness. "So, you've got a quest, you want me to help?"

"Oh, well... I don't know, it probably sounds stupid to you-"

"I want to."

"What?"

"I said I want to! I want to help you," Jeff said, catching Jack off guard with the eagerness. "You've made me a bit curious, Jack. Haven’t had anything this interesting happen for a while. I’m okay with routine, but a little something added into that..."

"I- _really?_ I have? Oh."

"Oh?"

"Ah! Uh, right,” Jack stumbled with his words. “So what is it, a deal? A partnership?"

"How about _'friends'?_ " Jeff suggested, giving Jack the most unsettling smile he had seen out of him yet.

Jack shifted uncomfortably, both a warm bubbly feeling rising up inside him and his face heating up, plus the feeling that this was a terrible, _terrible_ idea.

Ah, fuck it.

"Friends. I like that." Jack agreed, smiling happily from behind the mask.


	3. Stereotypical Hideout

Jack was pulled along, hand in hand with his lovely new murderer friend, on the street with only the occasional street light to shine in the darkness of the night.

"Here we are, base of operations!" Jeff said, gesturing proudly to the most cliche abandoned house Jack had ever seen.

Jack groaned over dramatically, shaking his head.

"Christ, could you pick anything more obvious? The creepy old haunted house on the top of the hill is the first goddamned place the police will look once they hear about the friendly serial killer in the neighborhood!"

"Don't say that, you're ruining it!" Jeff whined, crossing his arms.

"You know what'll be ruining it? The _police._ The police will be the ones ruining it."

"I can take care of the police! I've done it before, y'know, they're not that big of a deal..."

"Oh yes, that makes total sense, seeing how you always sneak around and murder people at night!" Jack drawled sarcastically.

Jeff literally refused to speak to him for a little while after that, not acknowledging him at all other than letting him into the broken down house, but he eventually got bored of it and sat down next to Jack in the house, watching him thoughtfully.

"Okay, it is kind of a stupid hideout, but it's cool, right?" Jeff said finally, a pouting look on his face.

Jack snickered, giving up and nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, we're living out the horror movie fanatic dream," Jack said, smirking. He paused, scooting closer to the other before speaking in a quieter manner. "You're right, it's actually pretty damn cool."

Jeff grinned, his face leaning in the palms of his hands.

"Ha, you dork."


	4. Not Really 'People'

"So, do you ever eat normal food?" Jeff questioned, perching on the railing of the stairs- Jack predicted he would fall off in a few minutes.  
Jack had been walking through the hall, but stopped without any other thoughts when Jeff popped up. He had gotten accustomed to the random questioning. Sometimes Jeff would pester him constantly and never leave his side, and others ignore him completely and disappear for hours.  
"Jeff, to me human flesh is normal," Jack replied cynically, as he always did when they got on the topic of his less moral habits.  
"Yeah, sure it is, but do you eat it for sport or is that really all you can digest properly?" Jeff said doubtfully, attempting to cross his arms but failing in that, as it was very difficult while sitting shakily on top of the railing.  
"Do I strike you as someone to eat like that for entertainment? Of course not! It's the only thing I can eat that actually fills me up. I can put other things in my mouth- they just don't make the hunger go away," Jack explained hotly, shoving his hands in the pockets of his own darker hoodie. “I’d be a vegetarian if I could. I’ve seen enough meat to last a lifetime,” He muttered bitterly. He could've sworn he'd gone over this with Jeff before.  
"Hey, don't look at me like that, people lie," Jeff growled quietly, seemingly thinking about something else.  
"I'm not really 'people', Jeff, have you seen me?" Jack said, frowning.  
Jeff burst out laughing, for reasons completely unknown to Jack, and he could only tilt his head and sigh in response. It wasn’t that funny, was it?  
Jeff fell off of the railing not a moment later.  
Jack offered to help him up, resisting the strong urge to get in an 'I told you so', since he had already warned him about these childish things. Jeff took the offered hand and pulled Jack down with him.  
Jeff was not doubt a sore loser, and strongly believed in taking others down with you when failing- and hell if he didn't love the chance to do just so.  
Jack couldn't tilt his head again, but he did give a louder, more dramatic sigh.  
Jeff looked quite pleased, and patted Jack on the shoulder. Jack supposed it must have been a mocking gesture, but he pretended it was comforting anyway, settling down on the floor - since he figured Jeff wouldn't let him leave anytime soon.  
Having a friend was incredibly annoying, ridiculous, and fun, Jack decided. Probably not always completely worth it, but irresistible all the same.


	5. Mask Off

Jeff dragged a dead body into Jack's room in the middle of the night once, scared him half to death.

Jack personally never slept, and had been curled up in the corner of the room with the bright screen of the laptop shining in his face- the only lighting in the room making a more dramatic effect. Jack spent most nights either like this, outside, or with a book. He spent most days in general like that. There were very few things in life that he valued more than his books, computers, and fresh night air. Jeff being an exception, since he was making Jack like him so much, who knows why. It was like something you know you shouldn't be involved with, but you just can't help yourself. Their morals were such opposites, but they spent time together and had gotten close anyway- even though they would've been enemies in any other situation.

This was also the first time Jeff had seen Jack without his mask on.

The body had been slightly upsetting, sure, seeing Jeff had climbed through the window with it claiming in his own defense that 'I thought you might've been hungry'- which Jack had replied to with a icy and only half sarcastic 'I prefer my meat live'.

It wasn't that which had gotten to him, though.

Jeff was covered in blood, more than Jack had ever seen on him before, and it took him more time than was comfortable to figure out that none of it actually belonged to his companion. Jack hadn't looked over to Jeff when he first entered the room, you see, only smelled the stench of death stronger than usual and figured he had dragged his work home with him. Jeff had a very strange sense of logic, or lack of, and somehow thought pulling some dead person all the way back home with the risk of being seen was going to have some sort of reward. Maybe he wasn't wrong, in a way.

When Jack did look up, however, he reacted too fast. He should've known none of the blood was Jeff's, this wasn't the first time he'd turned up with a few stains, but something flashed in his mind that brought up a lot of fear- something that suggested this wasn't even completely related to Jeff, but something... else. Something off that made Jack feel uncomfortable and just a bit _wrong_ inside. Something he didn't completely want to remember.

He did feel scared for Jeff right then. Simple panic of something happening to someone important was apparent as well, but the discomfort of some lost memory was making that even more stressed.

Jack had jolted up immediately, grabbing onto Jeff's shoulders, and feeling his own hair falling into his face. Dark, neatly trimmed short hair that had been getting a bit too long recently with nobody to cut it. Hair that accompanied his unnaturally black skin, empty eye sockets, and sharp teeth. Other than that, his features were human enough. Jack had originally soft features, easy on the eyes, which looked more worn and dangerous with added inhuman features and time spent with this lifestyle.

He hadn't meant to show his face this soon.

Jack didn't realize that he'd left his mask off yet, either, mind too distracted.

"Are you injured?" Jack demanded, the panic and concern in his voice seeming to shock Jeff.

Jack didn't know when he had gotten so protective over Jeff, so it was a bit of a shock to him as well.

"It's not my blood," Jeff said quickly, brushing off Jack's concern, not completely sure how to deal with it. Jeff hadn't had someone worrying about him in a long time, not to mention he was more interested in addressing other things. He waited until Jack calmed down a bit. "Jack," Jeff said slowly, leaning in unnecessarily close to the other. It was then Jack realized his mask wasn't there, feeling the warmth Jeff's breath on his face. He froze. "You aren't wearing your mask," Jeff said quietly, drawing the words out and enjoying the new panic showing in Jack's face. Jeff didn't move, and neither did Jack.

Jack's hands were still on Jeff's shoulders, much looser now, he was just too stunned to move them.

Jeff brought one hand up, hesitating, before running a few fingers faintly over Jack's teeth. He pulled it away the next second, letting the hand rest on Jack's chest for a moment before ghosting down and 


	6. Running won't save you

Jack scowled, showing a bit of his sharp teeth that were usually hidden away. " _Jeff_. Get the _fuck_ down here or I swear I'll come after you and pull you down myself," He hissed darkly, practically glaring at his complete idiot of a companion, who was currently on the roof. Practically glaring, since he wasn't certain one could glare without eyes- but he sure as hell could pull it off if anyone could.

Jeff watched him cautiously. "You wouldn't do that to me," Jeff said slowly, although he looked completely uncertain of his own words, and seemed to half realize that Jack really very well could pull him down.

Jack grinned wickedly. "Oh, but I _would_. Do you want a demonstration? We both know I'm stronger than you are, Jeff. Running won't save you."

Jeff cringed. "I don't want to go out! Not if you won't let me hurt anyone. It's not fair. It's just too tempting and just- just _mean_ of you. I don't like moving around in the daytime anyway, and-"

Jack groaned as he listened to Jeff's endless stream of illogical whining. It was childish and disgusting for someone of Jack's own strong morals to listen to. He usually tried to pretend he wasn't standing aside and looking the other way while innocent people died. Especially when he could just break his friend's neck and have it all be over, nobody else dying, so much solved with one person gone.

But he wouldn’t do that. Reason one was that Jack was a coward. Reason two was that he easily cared about Jeff more than anyone else. All of it was horrible and disturbing, but Jack didn't want to risk Jeff. He needed him, really. He couldn't talk to anyone else, hadn't for as long as he had memories.

The loneliness was scarier than anything and Jack wasn't going to go back to it again. Never. It didn't matter what price he had to pay, what guilt he had and cowardly behavior he acted on, he wasn't going back.

Back to the matter at hand, anyone observing would probably be confused, Jack felt, amused- if they were to wonder what they were arguing over rather than why two monsters were standing around and existing at all first, of course.

The simple explanation was that Jack was going to force Jeff to go to a grocery store because Jeff was an idiot. The simple explanation was also another confusing one.

Jack had noticed how unhealthy Jeff looked. Jack was a doctor of sorts, he deduced that from the skills he had, so he supposed it must be normal for him to notice these things about others. Jeff was also his friend. His only friend, literally. Of course he would notice little things and get worried.

A simple question, that's what Jack had asked. Of course, he just so happened to get an answer that probably shouldn't have shocked and angered him so much, but did anyway.

Jack had asked Jeff when the last time he'd eaten had been.

Jeff had informed him the time he'd eaten last was a time that definitely shouldn't be possible for a human, although not specifying a particular time, seeming to have forgotten when exactly he'd eaten last himself.

Jack was in a panic at this discovery, but also made a mental note to himself to study Jeff later for his own medical curiosity, since he seemed strangely durable for a human.

Jeff had also told him that he usually just grabbed some food from the houses of victims, if he had the time for it. That was his definition of shopping. Unacceptable.

Jack immediately demanded that Jeff go to buy food with him, and when Jack didn't let the matter drop even when Jeff refused- well, Jeff decided that running off and hiding on the roof was a brilliant plan.

Jeff was wrong.

" _Shut up_ and _get down_. You are not getting a choice in this matter," Jack said in a mock cheerful tone, when he noticed Jeff was still complaining. He hadn’t even listened to half of what Jeff had said, all the excuses were similar, after all. "Last warning. Get down."

Jeff gave a miserable little sigh (that Jack decidedly found rather cute- maybe he should tease Jeff more often? Wait, since when was this teasing?) before climbing down again, eyeing Jack carefully. "What are you going to make me do, Jack?"

Jack smiled pleasantly. "Don't worry, you're in good hands."

***

"You've gotta be kidding me, it's this easy? You just put on a mask and pretend you're going to a costume party or whatever, and nobody asks any other questions?" Jeff questioned in disbelief. "I mean, I don't like hiding my face away, but this isn't such a bad idea if it really works."

"Masks are very useful, it's about time you learned that, even if you are a narcissist." The smirk could be heard in in Jack's voice, even if you couldn’t see his face. "I can teach you a lot of tricks, you know."

"Wow Jack, I never expected Mr. Straight and narrow to be so manipulative," Jeff remarked, almost sounding impressed.

Jack hummed thoughtfully. "I wouldn't say it's being manipulative, but think what you like."

"Whatever you say, Jack. I see you in a whole new light now," Jeff said, snickering.

"How nice to hear," Jack said sarcastically. "Look, just don't show any violent or aggressive behavior and we'll be fine. The masks cause suspicion as well, seeing as they're a favorite of bank robbers and the like." Jack paused. "Please don't make anyone think we're bank robbers. That would be unpleasant and I would like to avoid that."

"Are you speaking from personal experience?" Jeff asked, half jokingly.

Jack let the silence speak for him. As if anyone needed any reminders or the times they were embarrassingly mistaken for a bank robber. He refused to talk about it. Being mistaken for a bank robber was not fun at all, and he wouldn’t recommend it, he would have to say if saying anything at all on the matter.

Jeff just shook his head and muttered an ' _okay then_ ' before leaving it alone. One of Jeff's _miraculous_ moments of better judgement shining through.

Jeff cleared his throat and started again. "So why couldn't you just come buy food for us alone if you're so good at this, huh?"

"Because, I want you to learn how to take care of yourself," Jack said firmly.

Jack had a feeling Jeff was smiling, although he hadn't said anything yet. It wasn't exactly the best sort of smile either, he felt.

"Funny," Jeff muttered to himself in a strangely delighted sort of way.

"Excuse me?" Jack mumbled back. He didn't expect an answer.

He didn't get an answer, either, but Jeff walked closer to Jack from then on. Jack didn't know what it meant, but for a moment he didn't want to. He'd rather just enjoy the other's company and closeness, just in case reality caught up any time soon.

 


	7. You only need me

Jeff crouched down, whispering out the beginnings of words he'd spoken so many times before. "Go to sle-"

Jack slapped Jeff on the back of his head, causing him to let out a small yelp. "Don't you dare use that damned catchphrase on me!" Jack hissed irritably. "I can't even sleep in the first place, idiot!"

Jeff pouted. "Maybe if you tried _really hard_ -"

"I don't really want to try to sleep around you, Jeff, no offense."

Jeff shrugged. "Fair enough, but maybe if you just had the right situation then-"

"What 'right situation'?" Jack asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't want to hear it, never mind," Jeff said with a wicked grin, turning to look out the window.

Jack shook his head and focused on his computer again. He was trying to research things about none other than the person sitting next to him, but said person kept interrupting and making weird comments. Jack blamed it on boredom and hormones. Sometimes it was clear to Jack that Jeff probably didn't have any other friends either, but was too proud to admit it, unlike Jack.

Jeff was too proud to admit a lot of things, or simply gave weird uncomfortable answers, so Jack researched things online rather than asking him questions directly unless he found something too confusing to avoid asking about.

Jack had two very clashing views of who Jeff was lately. Sometimes Jeff seemed to resemble a normal teenager- which had always struck Jack as being a bit sad. The other times Jack was quickly reminded Jeff was a cold-blooded killer that wasn't to be taken lightly.

Jack often wondered if one was his true self and the other a mask, but he also kept the theory that maybe Jeff was both of those things, somehow.

Jack frowned when he noticed he'd been staring at Jeff for a while. He thought about Jeff too much, but he couldn't really help it.

It was just very odd to look at his friend and remember that he was once just a normal human boy. You could see it, too. Jeff was smaller than you'd expect. It wasn't so hard to imagine him with a life and a family if you tried to. 

Jack wondered if he himself had a family and a life once as well, even if he couldn't see it in himself like he could with Jeff.

"Like what you see?" Jeff asked jokingly, noticing Jack's staring. He'd probably noticed for a while but waited a bit to speak up.

Jack sighed. "What's having a family like?" He asked quietly.

Jeff froze for a moment, before shuffling over to Jack's side again. He looked at Jack for a moment before pressing their foreheads together, their black hair mixing a little bit. "You don't need one," Jeff growled softly. "You only need me, right?"

There was something odd in Jeff's voice- what was that... desperation? Jack's mouth opened a little in surprise, but he nodded silently. He was a little alarmed by the sound of that, but he was agreeing just to be safe.

He also made a note not to mention families around Jeff ever again.

It wasn't really an angry reaction as much of a weird one.


	8. That was a mistake

Jack stood alone and shaking in a hospital room.

The door was barricaded now, even if a little rushed, but it didn't seem to ease off any terror.

He held a scalpel as a means of defense- saying weapon would make him want to throw up, and he'd already done so several times, so it'd just be dry heaving he wanted to avoid.

Blood clung to his clothes even though he'd tried to desperately get it off with his hands, which hadn't worked at all. It smelled horrible. It was on him, and that could mean that he was contaminated. A chill went down his spine.

Jack heard a sound from the end of the room, the part covered covered from view by a curtain. He spun around. He wasn't alone.

Jack gave a choked sob, and took a small step forward.

It felt like the crying would never stop.

***

Jack's head snapped upward with a jolt. He had just seen something. It was hazy, but had that been him? Was he just _sleeping?_ How?

He stood up slowly, feeling his body aching like hell and letting out a groan. He took a sharp intake of breath and looked around wildly.

An unfamiliar room. Someone's bedroom.

Jack hissed quietly, and he shuffled slowly towards a sleeping form. They were in the bed with their head down, covered by a blanket. He reached a hand out to shake the person's shoulder, but jumped when feeling how light it felt. He pulled to turn the person over.

The body fell onto the floor.

Jack tried to scream but no sound came out of his mouth, he instead turned to throw up the black sludge, still coughing uncontrollably even after it was all out of his system for the time being.

A dead body- not a living, sleeping one. With all the innards gone, skin and flesh torn into at the stomach area. It had a few small, neat slices in a few places, but it was like someone had just gotten impatient and used their hands and teeth instead.

Jack didn't even have the heart to try to look at the face.

But it did look like he had the heart earlier. Who else could've done all of this, right? Jack laughed shakily.

Why had the body been put back into the bed and covered with a blanket? Had he done it out of guilt?

Or had it been seen as a fun surprise for someone to find?

Jack looked down at his hands to see what they looked like. That was a mistake.

Jack threw up again.


	9. Neat freak

Jack stared blearily into his own empty eye sockets, splashing his face with water and scrubbing at the black gunk that never went away- he just _had_ to be a neat freak, didn't he? Made everything more difficult.

He wasn't quite able to cry in a traditional way, and he wasn't quite sure if that was a blessing or a curse. Well, not having normal tears didn't mean he didn't try anyway. At least he couldn't get all snotty, he supposed. But then he'd also have hours spent getting black muck off of his face.

"Disgusting," Jack muttered at his mirror image. "This is disgusting, _I'm_ disgusting-" he paused, sighing and running a hand through his hair. "No, there is no need for that. I don’t need to do this to myself again, nothing good ever came from it before. I respect myself. I wasn't..." he eyed the mirror again doubtfully. "I wasn't _myself_ when I did that to that poor man," he finished a little more confidently. Just confident enough to hide the fear and uncertainty in his voice.

Jack gave himself an encouraging grin, but froze in shock and had to spend extra time in the bathroom cleaning the remains of the dead man in the other room from his teeth.

Jack returned to the dead man’s room briefly to politely place a blanket over him, as one did in some situations with bodies, and as this situation certainly called for.

Jack quickly left the room again to avoid the smell. He felt horrible for whoever would have to find this room again, and that they'd most likely have a worse reaction than he did.

At least they wouldn't have to feel the horrible heart crushing guilt that he did.

Jack decided to snoop around a little bit, since he hadn't taken the time to investigate the rest of the apartment, being too life shatteringly panicked before.

Now that he had spent too much time in the bathroom (which Jeff always complained about in the morning, even though Jeff only wanted to get in to stare at himself in the mirror for equally obnoxious amounts of time- Jack mentally noted that he would have to buy Jeff a hand mirror), and felt guilty over things he didn't even remember doing, he could pretend to be a detective all he liked.

The investigation didn't turn up anything interesting, other than feeding Jack's guilt. The man seemed like a loner and didn't have anyone he was close to, as far as Jack could tell, other than a sister. Who he lived with. Jack tried to convince himself that somehow she wouldn't be the one to find him. Something about the thought of it made Jack's chest hurt, badly.

A part of Jack felt he needed to know these personal things about people he hurt to punish himself, teach him a lesson. Another part knew he needed to know because the people he hurt deserved to be known about, rather than just thrown away like trash. Trash they weren't, because these are living breathing creatures. Or, they had been.

Remembering who they were kept him from turning into something else. Kept him sane.

Kept him at least a little 'human'.

Jack left soon after that, still feeling miserable and nauseous, and a little disappointed he hadn't found anything.

Jack, however, did find something that he didn't quite think about until some time later. It wasn't even something very big, or anything he could prove was connected so early on, but somehow it struck him as a little odd and worth keeping in mind.

The man he had killed had worked at a hospital once, but didn't any more. Jack knew because he saw that the man had been rejected from a new job because of it, and the person who rejected him noted it was due to the 'incident' he'd been involved with in his previous job at the hospital.

He could just be jumping to conclusions, but it was something to start with, and more than anything he'd had to look into before.

 


	10. Squish

Lora Fisher wasn't thrilled when she found her brother, Frank, brutally murdered in their shared apartment. Her only brother in this world was gone.

She felt misery, but the feeling of sickness was far stronger than that.

Cannibalism, that's what they said it was. The police didn't know for sure, though, it was just a theory. They didn't tell her that directly, she just overheard it.

She hadn't eaten in hours because everything she touched, looked at, and tasted seemed disgusting. She kept having flashbacks to the moment she'd seen him.

She'd gone into his room thinking he was sleeping. Frank was a lazy man, always had been- except when he'd worked at the hospital, but that had been years ago. Lora never minded the laziness, since it was her brother.

When she saw the body shaped lump under a blanket, she thought he was playing a joke. Or had fallen off of his bed. But there was a growing feeling of fear pushing at her.

She had commented about him playing a joke out loud, and then kicked him playfully.

The _squish_ feeling that it got her was enough for her to turn cold. "Frank?" She had called shakily.

She moved to pull away the blanket.

The smell would've tipped most people off. If she hadn't had a stuffed up nose, she would've been saved from so much misery.

The scream she let out caused several neighbors to call the police.

And when the police got there, they found a girl screaming and sobbing, a long dead and mutilated man in her arms.

They had to pull her away before she further bloodied her clothes and body.

She'd taken a shower and gotten a change of clothes since then.

They'd said there had been murder and 'incidents' similar to this one. Talked about what a horrible person it had to be to do all of this.

Lora didn't think it was a person. Whatever did this to her brother wasn't any person, it was a monster. This wasn't a normal case. She swore she wasn't just imagining things because she felt horrible, there was something off about this.

They said she was a suspect. They couldn't think that.

She'd have to find the real suspect herself. Find the truth.

 

To: mitch@eyelessjack

From: lorafishes@gmail

Subject: Help

Hello, my name is Lora.

I've read all the stories posted here, and I have reason to think my brother was murdered by Eyeless Jack.

I don't know anything for certain yet, but I need your help. If it really was Eyeless Jack, it'll be worth your while.

You want to find him just as much as I do, right?

-Lora Fisher

 

Mitch leaned back in his chair, eyeing the email silently. " _Finally._ "

 


	11. Questionable thoughts

Jeff hadn't seen Jack in hours.

This was officially the worst day in Jeff's life, he decided. Of course there was also that time a police officer had shone a flashlight in Jeff's eyes, and then once a cat caught him off guard when he was trying to kill someone, and-

Okay, this worst was a little worse than those worsts, Jeff admitted to himself doubtfully. It was the worst of the worst.

Jack doesn’t go missing. If Jack ever leaves, he repeats the fact that he's leaving about ten times. That wasn't even an exaggeration, and Jeff exaggerated things a lot.

Jack acted like if he left Jeff would do something terrible or cry about it, and was all gentle when telling him he was going somewhere. 

It wasn't like Jeff couldn't live without Jack. It wasn't like that, it just felt a little lonely in a big house all by yourself.

Jeff had never felt lonely before.

He decided feeling lonely was the most idiotic thing he’d ever experienced. It was a little... painful?

He _could_ live without Jack, right?

Who cared if he could or couldn't, though.

Jeff just wanted his Jack back.

***

Jack opened the back door quietly, a weary expression on his face and a weary feeling in his body to match. He made sure to shut the door carefully, trying not to think about how uncomfortable a door that didn't lock made him feel, and walked through the kitchen and into the front hallway.

Jack's mouth opened, and he gasped when he saw Jeff.

Jeff was asleep. In the hallway.

 _Well,_ Jack thought as he closed his mouth and slowly crouched down next to Jeff, examining the other. _Hell if that isn't the cutest thing I've ever seen._

Even if it was a murderer. With his face sliced open. And it wasn’t like he could close his eyes either, so that must look really damn weird.

But his hair had fallen all over his face and he was all huddled up against the wall, arms around his legs. Jack could even hear him breathing, and it was _soft._ Not like his scratchy, growly voice was normally.

Jack covered his mouth, biting his lip and giggling a little bit at the strangeness of it all. 

He reached over to touch Jeff's hair on impulse. It felt a little strange, but Jack didn't mind. Like how he felt with a lot of things involving Jeff. A little strange, but he didn't mind. Even when they were more than just a little strange.

What was he doing, anyway, petting him? Oh well, he just felt... a need to. It wasn't like Jeff was awake, anyway, so nobody had to know.

 _Oh Jack,_ Jack thought to himself, shaking his head. _You are acting so strange right now._

Jack grinned and chuckled again. _And somehow,_ he answered himself. _I don't care a bit._

If anything could cheer a person up after murdering someone, it was definitely having questionable thoughts about your only friend.

 


	12. Jack o' lantern

Jack choked back his tears and readied his scalpel. "You're one of them," He mumbled. "Stay away from me."

"No, no- what are you doing, doctor? Please, put the scalpel down," The person said quickly, taking a small step forward. Jack didn't remember who it was now.

"You're sick," Jack hissed. "Don't come any closer. You're hurting people. You'll hurt me."

"Isn't that what you really care about?" The person said coolly, suddenly changing tones. "Yourself? Why mention that I'm hurting other people?"

Jack's eyes widened. "What are you talking about? Of course I care that you're hurting other people, any decent person would."

"You're not worried about them, you're worried about what'll happen to you, right?"

Jack's face twisted in both fear and anger. And maybe even a little bit of guilt.

"Well, you don't need to worry."

"Why is that?" Jack asked slowly, forcing his voice and face into an eerie calm mask. He needed to buy himself time to get out of this. Crazy people just loved to talk, so might as well keep this one happy and distracted.

And this crazy person seemed thrilled at the chance. "The others are a lost cause, so you don't need to waste time on that," A smile from a blurred face. "And as for you, you and I are already the same, so there's no use in 'hurting' you."

Jack froze. "You're lying."

"Am I really? Is that what you think, cowardly doctor?"

Why couldn't he see who it was. Why didn't he remember. "I'm not like you."

"No, you aren't, you're even better."

Jack only blinked.

"You're the one who started all of this in the first place, after all."

Jack's heart sank. "I didn't do anything."

"You just don't see, do you?" They shook their head. "Maybe it's these eyes that are faulty."

"What?" Jack's throat felt dry. So very dry.

They were still smiling. Getting closer. "I'll fix you. Hold still."

Jack couldn't move even if he wanted to. Why? Why were his feet stuck to the ground? Why couldn't he move? This wasn't right. Something was very, very wrong. Who was that? What were they doing?

The blurred face came very close to him, and examined him for a moment. The smile softened. "This won't hurt a bit," They said, and then stabbed their fingers right into his eyes.

Jack didn't know if the noise was coming from him or something else any more. All he knew was the pain.

Pulling and ripping. Ripping and tearing.

His head was being treated like a pumpkin, and someone was pulling the insides out, but he was still far from being a proper jack-o'-lantern.

Jack couldn't see anything anymore. Nothing except for one thing.

The blurred smile was burnt in his mind.

Jack was now certain the noise was coming from him.

This won't hurt a bit, they said.

There's no use in hurting you, they said.

Liar.


	13. My favorite color

Lora waited quietly at the back corner table of an outdoor cafe, watching the entrance impatiently. She stood up when she spotted a man that looked close to her age.

"Mitch?" She asked cautiously.

"Yes. And I’m guessing that means you're Lora," Mitch confirmed in a clipped tone.

Lora offered a hand to shake. Mitch glanced at it critically, then ignored it. Lora wasn’t sure if she should laugh or be irritated at the attitude he presented.

Mitch was a rather arrogant looking man with a seemingly constant disdainful look plastered on his face. Even if self absorbed, he didn't seem to be the most mindful of his looks at all. He looked rather ordinary and a little ratty, with a bedhead haircut that looked as though it had to be permanently messy. Had he let himself go out of depression after the incident she'd read about, or was that just part of his nature? He had dark sweater on, lazily tugged on hoodie, and jeans slightly scraped up from wear rather than for style reasons. He seemed like one of those adults who refused to admit they were adults.

There was another man behind Mitch, who looked a little out of place due to how much more thrilled he looked to be there. He was also scarily tall, which caught Lora off guard.

Mitch scowled when he noticed Lora eyeing the other man. "He tags along. This guy's obsessed with all the paranormal trash, so he'll either be useful or annoying as hell."

The paranormal trash fan in question smiled brightly at Lora. "Winston Blair, a pleasure to meet you. And I wouldn't say it was 'trash', per se, but everyone is free to their own opinions, aren’t they?”

Winston looked like the definition of easy going, with short light brown hair, a huge amount of freckles, and a big grin on his face. He was also almost well groomed enough to be considered the opposite of Mitch. His outfit included a very light blue button up shirt and a long cream colored knit coat. Lean body type, clean good looks- probably got plenty of romantic and sexual attention, even if the interest in the paranormal might dampen that a bit.

He seemed like a decent man on immediate inspection, even if a little odd.

"Lora Fisher," Lora introduced herself, giving a brief acknowledging nod instead of the handshake.

Lora herself had shoulder-length dyed red hair that flipped up a bit on the ends, calculating steel colored eyes, black leather jacket, steel-toe boots, tank top, and military-green cargo pants.

Mitch seemed to actually look at Lora for a moment, taking the time to eye her hair disapprovingly. "Y’know, all of your clothes scream no-funny-business tough-guy, but the hair really breaks the pattern," he muttered bitterly.

Lora shrugged. She had to break her fondness of practicality and not look completely unapproachable in some way, and the hair was it. 

"I think it looks nice," Winston commented with a smile. "My favorite color is red."

Mitch gave Winston a look as if to say that he ruined Mitch’s entire life just by existing. "Don’t flirt with our contacts, Blair, we’ve been over this _multiple times_ \- it causes problems when you don’t keep things strictly business. Or just don't speak, period, that might be easier for you," He snapped.

So she was right about Winston getting plenty of attention. And of course Mitch didn’t like it.

Winston pouted. “I was just giving a compliment to make up for your insulting her. You can be rude, but I can’t be pleasant?”

“You’re not allowed to be ‘pleasant’ because you always just end up flirting with everyone!” Mitch hissed.

“I still don’t see the problem with that,” Winston said, raising an eyebrow. 

Lora sighed, and cleared her throat to get their attention. She had a feeling these two would bicker a lot, possibly completely forgetting she was there when they did so. "Shouldn't we be going? Daylight is wasting."

"Yes," Mitch answered quickly, perking up. "Lead the way."

Could these people really do anything helpful? 

Oh well. It was too late for regrets.


	14. Tea sounds lovely

Lora picked up a bouquet of flowers left at her apartment door, a small smile appearing on her face. "No note again. I wonder who keeps sending these."

"Secret admirer? I wouldn't be surprised," Winston suggested.

"That would be flattering, but I don't have time for or interest in dating. Especially now," Lora said calmly. "I think they're for the loss of my brother, anyway."

"She's not interested in dating, Blair, better remember that," Mitch snorted.

Winston laughed it off. "I'm just being friendly, I swear. Nothing threatening here, miss."

And there wasn't, Winston looked harmless. As long as one ignored his height, that is.

Lora narrowed her eyes at Mitch when he wasn't looking- not that he really seemed to make eye contact anyway, so it seemed she could give him looks all she wanted.

Lora unlocked the apartment, and Mitch made sure to push his way through before anyone else could.

Winston placed a hand on Lora’s shoulder before she could protest to Mitch's antics. "Just let him sniff around for a moment, he's better at it than he looks- especially if left alone," He explained.

"I thought that was your job. Aren't you the one interested in this kind of thing?" Lora asked, raising an eyebrow after she closed the door behind them.

Winston smiled. "Maybe I'm not the only one here interested in ‘paranormal trash’, just the only one who'll admit to it."

Lora was thoughtfully quiet for a moment. "What do you do if he doesn't need you for this?"

"He needs me sometimes, I'm not _that_ useless," Winston said, laughing good-naturedly. "Perhaps you’ll even get to see some of my skills today, wouldn’t that be nice?”

Lora nodded, deciding not to pry. “...I’ll look forward to it, then, supposing it does happen.”

Winston watched her for a moment, then smirked. “You should.”

Lora took in a deep breath. She wasn’t the most comfortable in the apartment after the incident. "Should I make some tea? Or coffee?" she asked, moving towards the kitchen.

"Tea sounds lovely," Winston called from the other room.

Being able to distract herself with her hands was a welcome thing right then.

She brought out two cups of tea, handing one to Winston.

She sat down on the sofa, but Winston seemed set on standing.

"I feel rather useless just sitting here," she muttered.

"That's why I'm standing," Winston replied jokingly.

"You know, you two must be really desperate for information if you're agreeing to help me even though I don't have any proof," Lora says quietly. "Other than intuition, that is. You're basically catering to the needs of a mourning woman, aren’t you?"

"Is there something wrong with that?" Winston asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Even if you're just in shock and unwilling to let go of your brother, or not wanting to believe a human is capable of this sort of murder," Winston started to explain. "helping you still seems like the right thing to do. If we can help you get answers and understand what exactly happened to your brother, then I don't think it's a waste."

Lora couldn't say she expected that answer. Winston seemed to be a good person, and it felt a little reassuring just having him there. Mitch, she wasn't certain about yet. "Does Mitch share your feelings about this?"

"Mitch is desperate, you were right about that. This Eyeless Jack that he's chasing is very good at covering his tracks. Smart. Calculating." Winston sounded as though he had his own fascination with the monster. "The way Jack behaves- he seems to contradict his own actions at times. I find it very interesting. I wouldn't mind seeing him for myself, to see if a few of my theories are right."

The way he spoke about this kind of thing was different than the way he talked about other things, Lora noted. He really was an expert, as Mitch had put it. Where his tone before was light and playful, it was precise and serious now.

"You two must have to check up on a lot of leads," Lora speculated.

"Eyeless Jack specific, no- the time between incidents with him is long and people don't always speak up. It isn't usually this violent, either." Winston chuckled. "And by ‘people don't always speak up’, I mean cases involving him are mostly thought to be black market crimes, not supernatural- and those go to the police, not us."

Lora had read up on her share of supernatural stories online after the murder, but she hadn't really gotten these sorts of details. "That... that does make sense, doesn't it? I didn't think about it before, but it makes sense."

"You must've thought it made some sort of sense, though, didn't you? Otherwise you wouldn't have jumped to this. There are hundreds of other horror stories about creatures eating people alive, yet you picked one of them and stuck with it. Why Eyeless Jack, Ms. Fisher?"

"Maybe, but most of those 'hundreds of other horror stories' were just made to scare people," Lora said slowly. "I looked for large groups of scared people who had matching recollections of incidents, and ones who might've not believed in these things before. And in that, I looked for something that matched what happened to my brother."

Winston stared at her for a few moments before a wide grin appeared on his face. "We're only 'catering to the needs of a mourning woman', you say- ha!" he said cheerily. "Now you've got me feeling excited! Maybe this visit will turn up something interesting after all. If not, you've been enjoyable on your own and that makes it worthwhile."

Lora's cheeks heated in embarrassment at the praise. "If you say so."

There was a small pause.

"You know, not to be _insensitive_... but you don't appear very miserable on the outside," Winston says slowly, tilting his head. "Are you tearing yourself up inside over what happened to your brother?"

Lora’s face went blank for a moment, before her expression instead showed how tired she was. "Something like that," She said with a sigh. "I suppose I'm just... I still don't really believe any of it. That body, insides all ripped up- it didn't seem like it was my brother anymore. Just empty, nothing there." Why was she even saying all of this? She'd been keeping herself together so far, but that was just barely. She couldn't let herself go so soon, let the pain get to her. She still had to find out what really happened to her brother. So they could both rest peacefully. She couldn't just break.

"You're shaking," Winston said softly, interrupting her thoughts. "May I sit with you?"

"Am I?" Lora asked in surprise, lifting up her hands and watching them moving without her permission. "Oh, looks like I am," She noted indifferently. 

Winston sat down next to her. "That's fine."

"I just need a moment, I'm sorry," Lora said, frustrated with herself. "I don't know why I started-"

"That's fine, I said," Winston repeated, hesitating for a moment before setting a hand on her shoulder again. "We're going to find out what happened for you, for your brother."

Lora watched her own hands until they stopped shaking. She felt the warmth of Winston's hand on her shoulder- it was careful, trying not to overstep boundaries, but reassuring. "I know."

In this kind of situation, putting immediate trust in strangers was somehow much less strange than it would be usually.

Mitch stalked back into the living room a few moments later. "You two. Cherry and creep. I think you'll want to see this."

Lora bit back a complaint for the sudden rude nicknames, too interested in whatever there was to be seen and not wanting to provoke Mitch. She stood up and followed him.

Winston didn't react to the name calling, either used to it or completely indifferent to insults. Perhaps both. He took the time to gulp down the last of his tea before answering to Mitch's request of presence.

Lora appeared to be the only one outwardly showing signs of discomfort with squeezing into the bathroom to witness the discovery, but she did have to admit that the location made her more curious about what had been found.

The sink was covered in utterly disgusting looking (and possibly smelling?) black sludge.

Lora grimaced in reaction. Winston didn't look too surprised or unsettled by their first clue. 

"That definitely wasn't there earlier," Lora said, narrowing her eyes.

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong," Mitch said with a proud smirk. This was probably the best part of his day, being given the opportunity to act smarter than everyone else and shove it in their faces. "This disgusting looking stuff? Came out of your sink's drain. You're probably regretting not thinking more about your clogged up sink now, aren't you?"

Winston's expression now reminded Lora if a child's when opening a Christmas gift. "I'll take samples,” He spoke up quickly.

"Damn straight you will," Mitch sniffed.

"The sooner you get it out of my sink the better," Lora sighed.

She really had to wonder why it ended up in the sink drain in the first place.

 


	15. Wake up

"Jack, wake up!"

And wake up he did. Jack woke up feeling deeply shaken. There was sweat all over his body and he was now sprawled out on the floor, looking up to his only friend in fear.

Jeff's expression mirrored his own- fear.

How odd.

"Are you awake now?" Jeff asked him cautiously, after a moment of silence.

"I think so," Jack answered doubtfully, bringing a hand to his head. "Oh, I... why does it hurt?"

"You were having some sort of seizure," Jeff said quietly. "It looked unpleasant. I didn't know what to do."

Jeff didn't usually sound unsure of anything, either. 

Jack smiled despite himself. _Cute._

"I thought you couldn't sleep, what happened to _that?_ " Jeff growled at him.

"Are you irritated because you're worried about me? You had to say 'wake up', too, I bet you must hate how that clashes with your catch phrase," Jack grinned cheekily. "I'll be fine, I just-"

Jeff eyed him curiously. "Just what?"

"What did I... what did I see? I saw something," Jack said, clawing desperately around for the memory in his head. "What the hell?" he hissed. "I just had it!"

"What're you talking about?" Jeff asked, sounding unhappy to be out of the loop. "And hey, wait a second, where'd you go last night? Where were you?"

"Oh," Jack said, looking over to Jeff again, expression becoming guilty. "Well. I uh, you see-"

"Spit it out."

Jack sighed. "Give me a hand up first, please? I'm still on the floor, you know."

Jeff offered a hand.

Jack took the offered hand and pulled Jeff down with him.

It took Jeff a moment to figure out what just happened, but when he did he shot Jack a look of shock and accusation.

Jack grinned, and ruffled the other's hair.

Jeff didn't seem to take kindly to that, and tackled Jack.

Jack let out a gasp and tried to struggle out of it, although not really making much of an effort. Letting Jeff win seemed like the smarter thing to do at the moment. He was pinned down, laying face first all sprawled out on the floor, which wasn't the most dignified or comfortable position, but he didn't mind very much. In fact, Jack instead burst out laughing.

"Stop laughing, you asshole," Jeff growled.

Jack settled for smiling instead, and hoped, since he couldn't see the other at the moment, that Jeff didn't look _too_ pissed off. He didn't need to be ignored and pouted at for hours again.

Jack squeaked in an unbecoming fashion when he felt warmth press into his back and arms curl around his waist. Tackling and growling he could predict. Hugs weren't things he was knowledgeable about, especially when you're on your stomach and on the floor. He didn't think that was how traditional hugs worked. "Jeff what's-"

"I hate you."

"Excuse me? Your current actions seem to contradict that statement," Jack retorted in suspicion.

"Shut up, I hate you! You made me feel weird, fuck you!" Jeff whined, squeezing him harder.

Jack frowned, trying to figure out the implications of that statement. He failed to do so. "What?"

"I was... bored," Jeff explained awkwardly.

"Wait a second," Jack muttered. "Did you _miss me?_ "

"What? How did you know that?" Jeff said, as if completely shocked that Jack figured it out.

Jack snickered. "Wow, hold on, if we're going to do some awkward friendship scene we'd better do it right." Jack squirmed away, then pulling Jeff and himself up into a standing position.

Jeff stared at Jack for a few moments before latching onto him again. This time, Jack was able to return it properly.

Which of course, caused Jack to grin like an idiot.

"Get that stupid grin off of your face," Jeff muttered.

"What are you talking about? You can't even see my face right now."

"You're still grinning. Stop."

"You first," Jack replied, grinning even more.

Jeff made a frustrated noise, and looked up at Jack, glaring for a moment before pulling him down a little bit by his shirt. "Why're you so tall?" he growled.

"I couldn't say. What do you want me to do about it, get down on my knees?" Jack said cheerily, before freezing up and making a panicked noise. "Wait, wait no, that sounded... I take that back."

Jeff paused, staring at Jack thoughtfully. "Hmm."

"What kind of reaction is 'hmm'? What does that mean?" Jack whined. "Can we just agree that I never said that?" Jack asked, feeling his own face burning in embarrassment.

"No, we can't," Jeff said. He looked like he was trying to keep a straight face, but wasn’t doing very well with it.

"You're still hugging me, and this is awkward now," Jack muttered, staring up at the ceiling.

"I thought it was always awkward," Jeff commented.

"Well we could fix that if you didn't refuse to ignore my accidentally sexual remarks-" Jack paused. "Wait. Fix. Didn't someone else 'fix' something?"

"I have no idea what you're mumbling about," Jeff sighed, nuzzling his face into Jack's neck.

Jack would've felt this seemed a little more than friendly if his mind was anywhere near there.

_"I'll fix you. Hold still."_

Jack started to cough and choke uncontrollably. He was getting really tired of that.

Jeff, surprisingly, was still holding onto Jack. It was a rather nice change from his usual fits done in panic and loneliness. Having a pressing warmth there felt like it was holding him down and stopping something from going too far.

Jack was breathing in a very quick and panicky way. This time he had to _think_ about the memory, not just block it out due to the disturbing things in it. Everything seemed to ache and his body was practically screaming at him, even though he logically knew that the pain was in the past and not the present. Nobody was ripping his eyes from his head today. His body didn't seem to be collaborating with his brain right now, however.

"You're safe," Jeff whispered into his ear.

Jack froze for a moment before his body sagged, and he leaned into the other for support. He was still trembling a little bit, but the bad part seemed to have passed. "I think I did something bad, Jeff."

_"You're the one who started all of this in the first place, after all."_

"...How bad?" Jeff muttered.

"Really bad," Jack said dryly.

And then Jack told Jeff everything he’d learned.

 


	16. Why is it always hospitals?

Jack's vision cleared slowly, and he was still for a moment as it did so, before letting out a deep sigh of relief. "Oh. Thank god, that was a dream. I can see just fine," He brought a hand up to his face to confirm that, smiling at the happy hospital atmosphere. “Everything is fine.”

He got up from the hospital bed, saying hello to a nearby nurse.

_That nurse doesn't have a face._

Jack shook his head to himself. His vision just hadn't cleared up completely yet, it was just a bit blurry was all. Of course she had a face.

_Wake up._

The nurse turned and spoke to him in a combination of voices, mashed together in a very inhuman, ugly way. " _Fool._ "

Jack 'woke up' and stared at the broken, empty scene of the hospital room around him.

The real one this time.

Jack snapped his hands up again to check his eyes. His fingers fell through into his empty eye sockets, sticky and fleshy inside. A normal person would've wondered why they could even see with their eyes pulled out, but Jack already knew that bit. He'd rather he didn't, of course.

Jack let out a choked sound of terror and curled his arms around himself, absently pulling at his disgusting, bloodied clothes. " _Fuck,_ " he whimpered. “No no no no _no_ -”

Jack cursed excessively for the next few minutes, shed a few tears, and made some cruel remarks to himself about what kind of person he was.

Jack thought about his family. Their faces were blurred in his mind. He thought about the blurred smile of a liar who had stolen his eyes, and clawed at his own skin uncontrollably in a spark of vaguely animalistic rage and fear of that person.

If it really was a person.

And then he left the room and started walking, because really, at this point anything was better than being in that room drowning in a combination of self pity and self _hatred._

"There's a saying," He muttered to himself. "Too good to be true. Everything was exactly that."

There was sounds of stumbling and struggling from one of the hospital rooms, then screaming.

Jack stopped walking.

The screaming stopped as well.

Jack frowned, staring at the door to the room. He later recognized this as being a 'stupid horror movie character' choice.

Because when the screaming stops it doesn't mean it's over, it means you're next, and you lost your lucky chance to keep whatever murderous thing that was around around distracted.

There was a loud banging noise as something seemed to throw itself at the door, and then the action was repeated. _Bang, bang, bang..._ a sickening pattern to remind one that when the sound stopped it wouldn't be a relief at all.

Jack narrowed his eyes as the pure, delightful feeling of _'fuck my life'_ overtook him. "Why is it always hospitals, anyway?" he muttered.

The door made a cracking noise.

Jack paused to consider his own previous question. "Probably because of the stupid things guys like me do in hospitals. That's the answer to anything like this, really."

Jack laughed a very unhappy, bitter laugh.

 


	17. I'll give you a treat

A mutated animal surveyed the hallway, blood soaking its maw from a recent encounter with a weak human woman. It had smashed through the room's door to find more food, smelling another creature outside.

It spotted a figure, excitement of the hunt quickly building up again.

It was half its size, human appearing, an easy pick.

The creature tilted its head, growling at the human shaped being.

It didn't _smell_ like a human, and all of the creature's instincts were suddenly screaming at it to back away and leave it alone.

This one was much more dangerous than anything it had tried to eat before, even its own kind. Being more animalistic, this creature put its own stronger hunger before any morals and didn't mind cannibalism of sorts. It had eaten smaller weaker creatures that reminded it of itself a few times so far.

This humanoid one sharing a strength and hunger like the creature's own was not prey at all, but a predator much worse than it was.

***

"Jesus," Jack said blankly. "You're that... fuck, what the hell is _wrong with me,_ " he whimpered.

The giant creature in front of him whined.

"You were a _dog_ once," Jack muttered. "Experimentation on animals- why did I ever agree to that, or any of it? Once everything went in this direction, it wasn't what I wanted anymore. I was... a fool."

Jack stared at the creature solemnly for a few moments before he felt something at his empty eye sockets. He brought a hand up to check, and there was some sort of slimy liquid. He looked at his fingers, examining the dark slime covering them critically.

Jack looked back to the 'dog'. "I am so, so sorry, oh god," He breathed, as if the creature actually understood him. As if the apologies actually did any good. "I don't know where it all went wrong. Maybe from the very beginning. I was only trying to help, but I got _selfish_. I don't know why. I don't know, good lord, I don't know..."

Jack stopped, rubbed at his cheeks, and beckoned the creature over. "C'mere," he mumbled.

It didn't listen to him.

"Come here boy, c'mon," Jack said shakily, rubbing at his own cheeks again to try to rid them of the black substance. "Please? I'll give you a treat."

Something in the creature seemed to still recognize that word, and it slowly walked over. 

It was just as tall as Jack was.

Jack delicately rested his hand on the creature's head, examining it a little more closely.

It had a large mouth with far too many teeth stuck into it, much smaller ears that didn't seem to grow as much along with the rest of it, a bulky body, wider and larger claws, and around eight spider like eyes on its face- which all seemed to blink at different times.

Jack wondered if it might let him borrow one of its eyes, since there seemed to be plenty to spare. He almost smiled at the thought. "You aren't, uh..." Jack looked at the creature's blood soaked muzzle in uncertainty. "You aren't that bad off... I mean, you're a rather handsome giant monster if I ignore the fact that you probably just ate someone," he said weakly, patting the creature carefully to avoid the eyes. "I don't really remember your name, you know, but maybe you never had one," Jack sighed. " _Spider_ might be fitting, even if not very original. I wonder why you aren't attacking me."

Jack wondered if it was inappropriate to name a giant monster. But then again, it rather deserved a name after what it went to.

"Christ, how could I ever make up for all of this," Jack muttered. He stood still for a few minutes before the realization hit him hard.

"That's it," He said slowly. "I have to destroy my research papers and any remaining parts of the cure. I can still stop this."

Spider didn't understand a word of any of this other than 'treat', and was still patiently waiting for said treat.


	18. A real supernatural problem

"I didn't expect you to be able to do this kind of stuff, Winston, are you a scientist?" Lora said quietly. Watching him work was fascinating.

Winston smiled. "Something like that. Used to work in a proper lab, too. The skills come in handy for what I do now."

"I'd bet he was fired for being obsessed with 'what he does now'," Mitch commented.

"Wouldn't you love to know," Winston replied. He hadn't looked up once from what he was doing yet since he sat down. "Too bad I'll never tell you," he finished cheerfully.

Lora was curious now too, admittedly, but she wouldn't say so out loud. "Find out anything?"

"I really would like to get it checked out properly, but for now what I can pick up is that it definitely isn't natural to the habitat of your sink's drain," Winston said, turning to grin up at her, eyes lighting up. "Looks like you've got a real supernatural problem here."

Mitch moved over to the other two, eyes widening. "Are you absolutely certain of this?"

"Of course I am," Winston said. "Pleased?"

Mitch frowned, but it was without any irritation this time. "...I suppose." he looked over to Lora, staring at her with an unreadable expression. Maybe he was waiting for a reaction.

Lora wanted to give him something to work with, but she wasn't exactly happy either. Mitch's brother was dead, just like her’s was, so she wondered if he was ever really happy about anything.

Maybe he felt the same way she did. That it was good that they were making progress, but not quite happy.

Winston was the only happy one, but he hadn't lost anything. It didn't feel like he should be happy either, treat dealing with monsters like a game, but she was sure he didn't mean any harm by it. Perhaps a cheery disposition was how he dealt with this kind of thing.

Lora and Mitch shared a look for the first time.

Mitch sighed, and gave Winston a pat on the back. "Good work, Blair. You too, Che-" he coughed. "Ms. Fisher. Thank you for letting me tear through your apartment, that was very helpful." Mitch held his hand out to her when he finished.

Lora looked at Mitch in surprise for a few moments, before becoming embarrassed for freezing and shaking his hand. "No, thank _you_. It was no problem, really." Making up for the lost handshake earlier, that was interesting.

Maybe Mitch wasn't as terrible as she thought, but was just having a bad day. Or a bad life.

"We should be going, I think you've been bothered enough for today, and you'll want some time to think about all of this," Mitch said. "Winston will get that stuff checked out, too."

"Will you contact me if you find out anything?" Lora asked.

Mitch paused. "Yes. The same goes to you. If anything happens, call us first. He might show up again, but you're lucky you weren't around the first time."

Mitch then turned and walked out the front door.

Winston finished packing his tools up (Lora couldn't tell you what they were, not specifically), and he started writing something down on a slip of paper.

"What's this?" Lora asked as he handed it over to her.

"My email and phone number," Winston clarified. "Mitch did say to call 'us', didn't he?" Winston leaned in a little closer. "You should call me first, though. And if you need to talk about what happened with someone who believes all the details..." he tapped the piece of paper and smiled. "Here's your solution."

Lora blinked. "Goodnight, Winston. Say goodbye to Mitch for me, if he's still there. Do you need my phone number?"

"Sure, we did come here in my car after all, Mitch is a terrible driver," Winston said, giving her a quick one armed hug, as he was carrying his things with the other arm. "And no, I can just badger Mitch for that. Or steal it off of his phone."

Lora laughed and followed him to the door. "Don't get caught if you end up stealing it."

"Don't underestimate me," Winston said with a grin.

"I won't," Lora said.

Winston turned around right when she was about to close the door, catching it with a hand. He looked at her for a moment before speaking. "Be careful," He said.

And then he shut the door.

Lora frowned at the door for a minute. "You too," she said quietly to the empty air.

It was nice of them to let her rest and think things over, but really, she didn't want to be alone.

 


	19. Wendy

Lora smiled softly as she approached a humble, average looking man, but the smile wasn't for him.

It was for the child peeking out from behind his legs.

Lora crouched down and opened her arms. "Wendy!" She exclaimed brightly.

The little girl's eyes lit up, and she leaped into the woman's arms. "Mommy!" She crowed.

Lora held her daughter tight for a few moments before letting her go, standing up again.

"Do you want to go play, Wendy?" The man asked, leaning down to smile at the girl.

She nodded excitedly, running off in the direction of the playground and leaving the two adults trailing after her.

"Brian," Lora said finally in acknowledgment to the other, not looking at him while speaking.

"I'm sorry about your brother," Brian said slowly. "Are you sure you're emotionally ready to be going out like this so soon? To be interacting with Wendy?"

Lora gave him a dark look. "I will always be 'emotionally ready' to see my daughter. I only get to see her once a week or less, I would never give that up."

"I see. You should know why I'd think otherwise," Brian said neutrally.

"I may have been involved with bad things against my will, but I _never_ brought her into it and it never affected my parenting," Lora said stonily, her voice raising ever so slightly. "We've talked about this many times, and I will always say the same things to you, even if you don't trust me."

"You broke that trust a long time ago."

"You know I'd never do anything to hurt her, even if I hurt you!" Lora snapped. “I’d say we’re even, though what you did was much worse than anything I ever did. You knew taking her away would hurt me the most.”

"If you could lie about how you felt for me, you could have lied about anything,” Brian muttered, shaking his head. His all-american middle class pride could never take the things Lora had done, and had to make everything about him. It wasn’t about him. It was about their daughter. It was always about Wendy.

Lora's heart sank. He could accuse her of anything he wanted to, anything except that she somehow couldn't love her _daughter_. "I just want to spend time with my daughter. Please don't talk to me like this today," she said quietly.

Her ex-husband frowned, and his voice softened. "Go, then."

He still felt betrayed. They still started arguing every time they saw each-other.

He tried to understand sometimes, but their life experiences were just too different. His life had been led with normal parents who had decent morals and gently scolded you when you didn't get home on time.

Lora's life before him, and more importantly her daughter, hadn't been so white picket fence.

***

"Dad said Uncle Frank had an accident," Wendy said in the most solemn tone a six year old could use. It wasn't as though she wasn't genuinely sad, it was just a bit unusual for a kid with such a shining amount of happiness and childish optimism to be heard using that tone.

"That's right, sweetheart," Lora confirmed slowly, reaching a hand over to stroke her little girl’s hair. She was glad nobody had given her daughter any more details. "Uncle Frank had an accident, and it's very sad, but he's resting peacefully now." Not quite, but she was working on that.

"I'm sorry, mom..." Wendy said with large, kitten like eyes. "Does that mean you don't have a place to live anymore? You could come live with me and daddy again! Aren't you done 'working' yet? Can't you come back?"

Lora bit her lip and felt her hands threaten to start shaking again. She reached over to pull her daughter into another tight hug. "Oh, darling... There isn't anything I want to do more, but I'm not done working yet. I am so, so sorry."

"It's okay, mom. I miss you, but I know you're working for me."

"I miss you too."

***

Lora watched and waved when her daughter left with her father a few hours later, a fake grin plastered on her face- to pretend it didn't hurt her to have to let her daughter go. She had to do that every time she saw her. Sometimes they spent the whole day together, but others it didn't last as long as Lora might desperately wish. She'd truly give anything to be able to have her daughter again, even for the girl to live with her part time.

But like this it was always so terrifying. If her ex-husband wanted to, he could cancel any time she had to see Wendy. She could only see her when he let her.

Lora was sick of others taking away the things she loved.

Lora sucked in a breath, and checked her cell phone.

One missed call from Mitch.

Lora called Mitch back. "I just saw that you called. What's going on?"

"Something came up. You free now?"

Lora stared off to where she and her daughter had sat. "Of course, always."

"I thought you might've been busy."

"Not anymore."

"I'll send you an address, then."

"Thank you."


	20. Connect the dots

"It's raining," Jeff complained.

"Oh yes, I've noticed," Jack said. "Perhaps you should switch your hoodie for a raincoat." _Or any kind of clothing other than the goddamned hoodie, for once,_ Jack thought in slight annoyance. _When was the last time he even washed it?_ Jack’s inner clean freak shuddered.

"No way, the hoodie is already my thing! Why don't you change _your_ hoodie?"

"Because I don't mind the rain, Jeff. Is the scary murderer afraid of a little rain?” Jack mocked in a sing-song voice. “Or maybe you're just afraid of baths?" Jack snickered, helping Jeff climb up a slippery ledge. "You don't get complaining rights, you're the one who begged to come along. And I do wear things other than hoodies sometimes, you know, unlike you."

"I wouldn't mind the rain if I was inside," Jeff muttered. "Sneaking around trying to stab things while dripping goddamn rain water everywhere doesn't really help me to intimidate anyone."

"They might have you mop up the puddles before being able to kill them. Jeff the killer- you'll die laughing at him. Has a nice ring to it," Jack said, patting Jeff reassuringly. "We're not going to be stabbing anyone today, so you don't have to worry about embarrassing yourself. You're out with me, so you have to listen to my rules."

"Laughing to death sounds pretty gruesome," Jeff said with a grin.

Jack flashed him a disgusted look. "Not quite what I meant, but of course you'd think of it that way."

"I'm climbing around on roofs in the rain for you, you'd better appreciate that," Jeff grumbled.

"It's not as if anyone can see you looking this ridiculous other than me, but thank you, I do appreciate it," Jack said sweetly, sliding an arm around Jeff's shoulders and nuzzling his hair.

Jeff growled, shoving him off. "Hey, don't put your arm around me, I'm not the girl in this relationship."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me? What's _that_ implying, Mr. High and mighty?"

Jeff shrugged. "I dunno."

Jack glared at the other. Classic teenager avoidance trick, saying you don't know when you almost always do and are either too lazy to or don't want to give an answer. "Then why'd you say it?"

"I don't know," Jeff said in a slow mocking way, smirking at the other.

"If there was a 'relationship', I don't know why anyone would have to be the 'girl'-" Jack's face flushed and he made an angry sound when he caught on a little late. " _Wait_ , do I really seem like I'd..." Jack swore under his breath and glared at the other. " _Really?_ "

What a weird conversation to have while traveling by rooftop.

Jeff started snickering, which soon couldn't be held back from becoming full blown laughter.

 _Oh the hilarity,_ Jack thought to himself grumpily.

"You really want me to answer that?" Jeff asked in an amused tone.

That was a good question.

"Maybe I do, would you really miss the chance to mock me?" Jack said. "I'm curious, and you apparently have a dirty mind."

Jeff tilted his head curiously, still smirking. "I'm usually stuck in a house alone all day, other than the one person I've been able to interact with without killing for years. Of course I'd naturally think of a few things," Jeff said nonchalantly. "Not to mention I'm still a teenager, and male- you can connect the dots."

Jack stiffened, his body heating up significantly. Perhaps the rain would help with that.

Was what Jeff said a serious answer? Jack's mind was desperately trying to process the information properly.

"Oh," Jack said simply, the pitch of his voice getting higher. "Is that so?" If Jeff was teasing him, he'd likely burst out laughing at Jack for falling for it.

Jeff didn't laugh. "It's pretty normal with the situation, isn't it?"

Jack frowned, trying to depersonalize it to have it make more sense. "I suppose so, yes. Perfectly normal, especially for someone your age."

"So you're okay with it, then?" Jeff asked cheerfully. He really didn't sound that worried over if Jack was okay with it or not.

Jack mentally groaned. "Uh... yes! No issues here, none at all."

"It's hard not to think of you in that way when you seem to always accidentally say thought provoking things- like about getting down on your knees," Jeff said thoughtfully.

"You actually thought about that?" Jack squeaked.

Jeff almost looked insulted. "Of course I did, who wouldn't?"

"Plenty of people!" Jack whined.

"Your voice sounds interesting," Jeff commented.

"You just informed me you were sexually attracted to me, so that's not surprising," Jack muttered. "Now I'll have to pretend to not notice you checking me out."

"You didn't notice well enough before, although I thought I was being pretty obvious," Jeff said, snorting. "Not that you need to pretend you don't notice," he added suggestively.

"Uh," Jack said quietly, trying to be a reasonable adult. "Right, noted." He’d only mentioned pretending not notice the other checking him out as a _joke._ He had no idea it would be completely accurate.

Teenagers were scary.

Jack had kind of scared himself a bit, too, since he almost accepted the offer. Then again, he didn't laugh and say it wasn't going to happen, either. He'd like to say it was just him being polite, but it wasn't. Jeff was correct on his point that they were both living alone with the only people they'd been able to interact with without hurting in a long time.

Jack decided right then was a good time to hide away his face behind his mask again.

"So, what... do you have fantasies with me in them or something?" Jack found himself asking, biting his lip, even though he really wanted to drop the topic completely.

"You're thinking about it now, aren't you?" Jeff said, sounding very, _very_ pleased. Smug little asshole.

Jack decided not to give Jeff the pleasure of an answer. He really just wanted to take a cold shower right about now.

The rain would have to do, as they really did have something they had to do today.


	21. An odd personal reaction

Lora knocked lightly on the front door of the location she was given. She had driven out to a small, pleasant looking light blue two story house. It had larger distance from any neighbors than the houses closer to the city. Someone valued privacy, it seemed.

A ruffled looking (perhaps more than usual, but it was difficult to tell) Mitch opened the door.

"Hello Mitch, is this your house?" Lora greeted.

"Hi," Mitch replied distractedly. "It's Blair's house- blue isn't my color."

Lora wasn't sure Mitch had a color, but she nodded, and entered the house.

Everything looked rather new and clean, for some reason.

"Lora, come over here, would you?" Winston called, beckoning her over to the dining room table- which unlike everything else, was messy and covered with folders, documents and other things.

Lora made her way over, taking a chair. "I hope this is legal," she commented, eyeing the papers.

"I've asked him if things were legal before, but I never get an answer," Mitch said, peering in briefly to give a disapproving look from the other room, disappearing again to do who knows what. Mitch things. He probably already knew whatever she was about to be told.

"I'm glad you could make it," Winston said cheerily, ignoring the questioning of whether his activities were within the restrictions of the law or not. "Your hair is down today. You look good."

"Thank you. I had something earlier I wanted to look nice for," Lora replied quietly. "You have a very nice house. Do you live out here all on your own?"

"Mitch stays over sometimes, but he lives with his parents or out of cheap motels most of the time," Winston answered jokingly.

Lora briefly wondered if Mitch did anything for a living, or if he just liked to chase after monsters. She didn't know if Winston did anything other than this either- she'd have to ask later. "Sounds a little lonely- I've never lived on my own until now."

"Sure, but it gives me room to focus on what I want," Winston said, watching her curiously. "It's interesting that you've never lived alone before, though. I'm the opposite." He smiled and waved his hand dismissively, changing the subject. "Speaking of focusing, I just remembered I needed to fill you in on what's been found out."

"Please do."

"The black slime found at both 'brother incidents' are a match," Winston began. "So it's confirmed that you have Eyeless Jack specifically. You have good intuition, you know."

 _I've had to,_ Lora thought. She shifted in discomfort at the thought that this was still all real and actually happening.

"And I've also been doing some research," Winston said in a sudden serious tone. "I've got a theory. It's a little odd, but I thought you might want to hear it- since it's one of our only ideas on where to go from here. "

"Go on," Lora encouraged him.

"Take a look at this," Winston said as he handed her a paper.

It had her brother's information on it.

"What does this have to do with my brother?" Lora questioned a little defensively.

"Possibly everything," Winston said slowly. "I'm seeing a pattern with the victims. Your brother fits into it."

"What does he fit in to, then?" Lora asked suspiciously, feeling a little uncomfortable at the mention of her brother, but still very curious.

Winston placed a hand on her arm. "Well," he said lightly. "Your brother once worked at a hospital, yes?"

Lora frowned. "He did. He loved that job, but he left because something happened. He never told me what exactly, and I didn't pry for information." It had almost seemed like it had drained all of his energy one day and he just couldn't do it anymore. She should’ve asked. Even if he would’nt have told her, she still should’ve tried.

Winston eyed her with an unreadable expression. "He wasn't the only one to quit from that place. A few people or more did so, all around the same time."

"You're saying they might've known something?"

"Might've? They still do, they aren't all dead," Winston said, his voice suddenly sounding a bit panicky. "At least, they aren't yet."

"Are you suggesting... that we find them first?" Lora asked slowly. This was seeming a lot bigger than it did yesterday.

"That is _exactly_ what I say we do," Winston said firmly.

Lora was mostly on board with this idea.

Winston seemed strangely passionate about it.

"How does Mitch feel about this?" Lora asked.

"Doesn't matter. How do _you_ feel about it?"

"I'll help as much as I can, but it does matter," Lora said. "Are you okay, Winston?"

Winston stared at her for a moment.

Winston's eyes were a very interesting shade of blue, Lora noted for no particular reason. Perhaps she'd just started to connect the color blue to Winston in various ways due to Mitch's comment.

Winston sighed and slumped back against his chair. "I apologize, I got a little too... I've just never- _we've_ never gotten this close, not with Jack."

"That's fine, you have reason to be..." What exactly _was_ he feeling? Lora couldn’t exactly tell.

"Exhilarated," Winston breathed, answering her unspoken question. "And angry. That's what I feel."

He laughed a bit to himself after that.

Lora watched him carefully, a small frown on her face.

They still had many pieces of a puzzle to put together, but Winston was looking like a bit of a puzzle himself.

She knew why she and Mitch were here, but there was something missing with Winston. He was having an odd personal reaction that didn't just come with going along with a random job.

Something was different, and it was far too soon to be able to tell what.

"So, you're still helping, then?" Winston challenged, eyes trained on her again.

"Do you have any tea?" Lora asked, deciding to go along with things again in the form of asking a relaxed, casual question implying she'd be there awhile to drink it. _I'll give in- for now._

"I've already made some," Winston said with a smirk, reading the unspoken agreement in her words.


	22. Flesh and bones

A quiet hum of machinery could be heard, but all that could be seen was a void of emptiness.

Lora stared out into the endless white world, contemplating it.

She'd never felt so in control in a dream, so this couldn't be normal.

Then again, what was ever normal anymore?

A figure appeared in front of her, and it almost felt like it had been there all along. Almost, because it struck her that the feeling wasn't quite her own, but instead placed in her head. A small manipulation that would work more easily on much more absent minds.

Lora examined the new addition to the void. They were shaped in a feminine way, but somehow seemed more androgynous. Dressed in an all white clothes- suit, gloves, shoes, and a blank mask with no eyeholes or anything to match. The only other color was in the hair, but that was black, in a short and simple haircut, although long enough to cover the ears and any other signs of skin.

The theme seemed to be some form of simplicity. A blankness to go along with the rest of this place.

Lora didn't like being somewhere like this. It was draining.

And yet, she still had to make a good first impression.

"Hello," Lora said simply, figuring that was a good place to start.

A brief amount of time passed.

Then, they spoke. A slur of different voices spoke together as one. " _One with manners. Very nice._ "

It sounded alien and unnatural, but Lora appreciated the fact that it sounded like it had a bit of personality to it.

And that it wasn't trying to kill her. She'd had dreams with creatures, ones who would rip at her flesh, tearing into her stomach and eating her insides. It was a nice change from how those dreams went.

Lora usually kept calm in dreams. Even if she couldn't control everything, she had a certain recognition that she was in a dream, and not a reality. Reacting to it would only hurt her, which was unnecessary with things that weren't actually happening. No matter how upsetting, it wasn't real. She'd repeat that to herself a lot.

She had been silent and neutral when the dreams started coming to her. Frozen in place and unable to defend herself as monsters came to eat parts of her alive, leaving her to simply watch it happen.

She stayed calm most of the time. The rare other times, she simply broke down in a mess of crying and shaking that stayed with her when she woke up again.

Calling them nightmares would probably be more accurate, but that would be admitting that they terrified her. Admitting the weakness, letting them hurt.

Hopefully this dream wouldn't end up like that.

"It's as should be expected when first meeting someone," Lora said with a small nod. "Is there something you'd like to speak to me about?"

" _Yes, and you're making this much easier to do,_ " They hissed. " _I'll be courteous in return- a gift for your cooperation._ "

Sounds like someone else didn't think fast enough when presented with this situation. Lora was confused, of course, but fuss would hardly get her anywhere in a place she was so unfamiliar with. Unless threatened, she would act as a guest.

"I'm listening," Lora said calmly.

" _You've been forced into a dangerous situation, but you have accepted it- and even created purpose for yourself. You are able to handle yourself, already having been broken before and yet still hanging on to life,_ " They spoke. " _However, I am not here to compliment you, I am here to send a message. I've said those things only to express I have hopes that you will not fail in a most permanent way, and that you should remember that._ "

Lora didn't remember to breathe for a few moments while taking in what had been said.

Failing in a most permanent way was certainly a polite way to speak of dying a violent, disturbing death.

The being went on. " _You are currently the noble criminal, an interesting and promising addition to the game. And yet, I must tell you this; you do have the chance to be more, but in the state you are now... presented with what the future has in store, if you stay like this you'll be eaten alive. You'll need to find ways to defend yourself. Weak human flesh and bones will cause you to rot._ "

Lora felt an ache in her head.

These things were things she'd considered already on her own.

When heard from someone else it hit her much harder, however.

Lora found the will to say as much, too. "I know all of that, but I needed a reminder. Thank you."

The creature laughed, and it sounded demented when doing so. " _I enjoy your attitude. I feel sorry for you, and I'll apologize now for the fact that I'll be giving you a cryptic prophecy of sorts._ " Demented, but somehow charming. " _It'll make sense to you later, most likely. It might never make sense, but I didn't make the rules. It isn't even a prophecy, more of a warning._ "

If they didn't make the rules, who did?

Something about that thought made Lora very, very uncomfortable.

" _The noble criminal, truthful fool, dangerous dreamer, fallen doctor, and the one who is learning to care again. These are all the starting pieces in a high stakes game. Some roles must be changed, others kept going, but even small pushes will have large results. Friends and enemies will become one and the same before the self-centered story will open to the real one, which will endanger everything. Once that is realized, the question you have been wishing to ask since the moment you came into the void will be one of the most important parts of what will come._ "

Lora remembered the thing she'd been wondering from the start of the dream, which didn't feel like a dream at all anymore. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. "What is that sound?"

The hum of machinery had been there, quiet and yet digging its way into the back of her mind.

The being in the white suit faded, and everything else was fading away as well, but their many voices still whispered into her head.

" _The next time you hear it, you'll know that the real game has begun._ "

Or, as Lora thought in a brief moment, the next time she heard it, she'll know that everyone was fucked.

 


	23. What is this world coming to?

It was pouring down rain when Lora woke up. Not soft, nice sounding raindrops either, the heavy, ruins your day kind.

She ached a little from sleeping on Winston's couch, but she was the one who insisted on it even after being offered a bed, so she couldn't complain.

She stared out the window in a haze for a few moments before remembering what had happened.

She blinked a few quick times to try and get any sleepiness away, and slipped off of the couch.

She had borrowed one of Winston's t-shirts for the night, as she knew how uncomfortable sleeping in all of her clothes could be- She could stand the couch, but not that.

She padded through the front room and was soon relieved that, by the sound of the one-sided argument from the dining room, her teammates were already awake.

"Good morning, Lora- have any interest in pancakes?" Winston called, instantly spotting her and giving a bright smile.

Mitch looked extremely offended all of the sudden. Not that he didn’t normally look offended, as that was just his default look, it seemed. "Did you listen to anything I just said?" He snapped at Winston.

"Sure I did," Winston replied dismissively and unconvincingly. He patted a seat next to him to invite Lora to sit down.

"Pancakes are fine, but I want to talk first," Lora said, taking the seat a little reluctantly.

"Good luck with that," Mitch scoffed.

"Don't even think about slinking off, Mitch, this conversation includes you as well," Lora said to Mitch a little threateningly, realising he was probably going to pull his usual move. She decided she really didn't like it when he did that.

Mitch tensed for a moment before giving a shrug, and nodding.

"I had an abnormal dream. The cryptic prophecy sort." Lora started.

"You had a dream? No no no- _I_ had a dream-" Mitch began to protest.

"Looks like we've all had dreams," Winston said in an amused tone. "In Mitch's dream there was a lot of yelling. From him, of course- Mitch doesn't like confusing things, and a lot of things confuse him, so you can see how _that_ goes. How about you, Lora?"

Mitch's eyes widened briefly when he came to the realization that Winston really _had_ listened to what he had been saying, and he would've even been a little touched if not already constantly irritated. That was probably saying a lot. He also soon caught on to the fact that he was being insulted, and any signs of appreciation were gone.

Lora waited until Mitch looked slightly calm, and then began to explain her own dream in as much detail as she could manage, although taking out a few personal bits. She accepted a plate of pancakes when she was done speaking.

"Well, the creepy thing in the suit called me the 'truthful fool'- can I ask for a new stupid prophecy name, and without the stupid part this time?" Mitch said begrudgingly.

"That takes away the whole purpose of a stupid prophecy name, Mitch," Winston replied cheerfully.

"I just blurted out my insulting title, which ones did you guys get? I'm not standing alone on this," Mitch said, narrowing his eyes.

"That's a secret," Winston said with a grin, putting a finger to his lips in a shushing motion.

"What're you talking about, secret- you got something to hide?" Mitch muttered.

"Noble criminal," Lora offered, not seeing any point in lying if asked directly. Admitting her 'title' would also distract Mitch from becoming even more irritable towards Winston.

"Oh, fancy," Winston said in a vaguely approving manner.

Mitch looked uncomfortable with this new information. "Wait, what? How do you get a title like that?"

"Nothing she has to tell you, Mitch," Winston warned with a thin smile, taking on a more negative tone for the first time in the day. "Mind yourself."

"I think it's my right to know if someone I'm closely working with has a history of dangerous things, Blair," Mitch snapped defensively, narrowing his eyes.

"He has a point, really," Lora said with a slight shrug of the shoulders. "It's fine, it's already public information after all, you might’ve seen it on the news at some point. I was blackmailed into working in organized crime for a while when I was younger. I escaped it for a while, and then I had to do it again briefly in the last few years. I'm not involved now and haven't been for some time, so you don't have to worry."

Mitch's face blanked. "Oh. I see." He looked like he was having inner conflict on if he should feel pity or suspicion. "It had better not cause any trouble for me- you got that, Fisher?"

Lora scoffed and nodded. "Got it, Mitch. Relax, I won't bite." _Not unless he's being an asshole and asking for it, at least,_ Lora added mentally.

Winston kept a mostly neutral reaction other than a small reassuring smile. "Good to know. Moving on?"

Lora gave a small 'thank you' smile to Winston for not trying to pry for information or giving her any weird looks. Not that it wouldn’t be justified. "Moving on, yes. What do you two think of this dream business?"

"It's weird voodoo bullshit, that's what I think. Someone is trying to manipulate us into doing strange rituals and shit like that," Mitch immedietely pitched in.

Winston frowned at him, furrowing his brow. "Where'd that come from? What does voodoo have to do with anything?"

"Creepy things are all connected, okay? I know what I'm talking about, I'm the truthful one, so I must be right!" Mitch argued.

"And you forget that you're also the fool," Winston said, narrowing his eyes. "I'm pretty sure we can cross 'weird voodoo bullshit' off the list, but nice try, _really_."

"What are you, the voodoo expert?" Mitch scoffed

"As a matter a fact, yes, I am," Winston replied with a sniff.

Mitch blinked and eyed Winston in a suspicious manner.

Winston gave large, innocent eyes. “What? I dabbled.”

Lora frowned and shook her head at the childish arguing, trying to block the voices out so she could actually think a little bit. "He is right, though, everything does seem connected," she muttered to herself.

She cursed mentally, shaking her head. There were things missing, important things. They needed just a little bit more information.

Lora glanced at the papers of the hospital employees who quit around the same time as her brother, stopping with a sudden frown. "Winston, where's the rest of the information in these papers? Not everything is listed here, there are addresses and other things missing."

Winston opened his mouth without saying anything for a moment before putting his palm to his face and groaning. "Oh, that slipped my mind, I'm sorry. I didn't even think of mentioning it, although it's pretty important too, I suppose. Right, okay. Those papers are a little old so not everyone would be living in the same places, right? Not everything was listed on those anyway." He cleared his throat and looked off for a second. "I was having some difficulty finding all the information. I usually would've gotten more, but somebody covered this up- thoroughly. Maybe I'm just being paranoid and they never put everything online, but either way it isn't there."

Mitch rolled his eyes. "Just look whoever you need info on up on facebook. How much more easy could it be?"

"Thank you, Mitch, but I have in fact tried that," Winston said dryly. "I would explain to you how it didn't accomplish much, but I'm not going to waste my breath doing so."

"How was I supposed to know you'd tried it?" Mitch asked with a shrug of the shoulders.

"Boys," Lora began warningly. "I'd appreciate for someone to help me out by working rather than squabbling. We were talking about something?"

Winston shot Mitch one last look, but turned his attention to Lora again with a bright smile. "Of course. Ah, where was I?"

"Conspiracies messed up your information gathering. How do we fix that?"

Winston hummed thoughtfully. "Well I suppose there might still be physical copies with more information. Getting things off of the internet is getting simpler and simpler these days, and occasionally it's less likely for things to be stolen if they're locked up and non digitally stored. It's a little funny how things are being flipped around like that, huh? More likely to get scammed online and lose all your money than robbed in real life now."

"I'm not sure you're right about that," Mitch said in slight uncertainty. "But I'm not sure you're wrong either. Is it more ambitious or less ambitious to scam people online rather than rob them normally?"

"Depends on your viewpoint of such things and how one does it, I suppose, and what 'normal' is considered," Winston said with a chuckle. "I hadn't really thought that far into it."

"You've thought about it enough, though," Mitch said begrudgingly.

"I can make good observations quickly at times, yes," Winston allowed.

"So, what'll we be doing?" Mitch asked, surprisingly putting the argument to rest himself this time. "About the 'physical copies', I mean- if they exist."

"I'll try and see if they exist, so don't get all frustrated," Winston said, opening his laptop. "And if they exist... well, I suppose we'll make up something to get them," Winston said, although Lora caught the doubt in his voice.

"That won't work," Lora said, shaking her head. "If someone has gone to the trouble of making them difficult to access, they'll notice if they're looked at. They'll go after whatever trail we leave, or more likely we wouldn't even get to look at them in the first place. And if the conspiracy theory isn't true, then it'll just take longer to get them anyway."

"If you have a better idea, feel free to share it," Winston said, looking thankful he didn't have to come up with something this time.

"I can use the skills acquired through my less desirable background to help you out," Lora says, eyes glinting. "If you're open to the idea."

Mitch frowned at her for a moment before catching on, a very distressed and angry look on his face. "You want to _steal_ the papers? The ones that we don't know exist or contain the right information yet anyway?"

"They do exist, Mitch, I can confirm it now," Winston said suddenly, grinning.

"Christ, I already let the shady internet information gathering thing go, but I don't think I can go along with _this_!" Mitch growled, throwing his hands up.

"It wouldn't be stealing if we didn't take anything," Lora said, even though she didn't like the idea much herself. She hadn't even thought of doing something like this in a long time, and if she was caught it really wouldn't be pleasant for her.

Lora then took on a more serious look. "This is important, Mitch," She pleaded. "If we don't find these people and warn them, they could die. I don't want anyone else to feel the way we felt when we lost our family members to this. You don't even have to come, I could always get the papers on my own."

Mitch stiffened, giving her a brief sad look before closing his eyes and turning away. He was quiet for a moment. "You know what, whatever. I'll go. Someone reasonable has to be there to keep you two from doing something idiotic, after all," He muttered.

Both Lora and Winston's faces lit up, and they gave eachother a look.

Lora stood up and couldn't help but give Mitch a hug from behind, causing him to squeak. "Thank you, Mitch," She said sweetly. "I'm very happy you're going to break into a building with us."

"I'm sure you'll make a wonderful babysitter," Winston said, chuckling.

"We've only known each other for a while, jeez, lay off the _hugging_ ," Mitch mumbled nervously, although he secretly did enjoy the companionship he was getting lately.

Both Mitch and Lora squeaked when Winston joined in on the weird hug situation, almost suffocating the both of them.

"Jesus christ, Winston, you're not making this any better!" Mitch said, struggling. "Let go, you goddamn giant! Who gave you permission to be so strong? This isn't fair!"

Lora started laughing, covering her face with her hands.

Winston grinned. "No way. You two are adorable, I'm not missing out on the cuddly action. I like seeing Mitch's icy heart melted. Good job, Lora dear."

"I hate you. I hate you both," Mitch said weakly. "And we're apparently going to break into a building. What is this world coming to?"

 

 


	24. Probably

"You sure you want to go first?" Jeff asked in a sudden amused tone. "I heard you were a little clumsy once when sneaking into someone's house."

Jack shot him a glare. "That was _one time_ , and I wasn't myself. I'm sure we could waste time arguing over who's a better sneak, but we both do know I have better senses. Therefore I'll be much better for scouting this place out and making sure it's safe."

"Safe? Of course it'll be safe, this is a place where they keep all the dull records and documents. The most you'll have to worry about is mice," Jeff said with a snort.

"Look, I'm not taking any chances," Jack said nervously, gently pulling up the skylight he was going to use to get into the building. Nobody knew ‘paranoid’ like Jack did. "It's probably fine, yes, but I've learned not to trust 'probably' the hard way already. I'm checking it out, and you're waiting outside- that's just how it's going to be."

Jack then slipped through the opening, gently stepping down onto a desk, then to the floor.

The air smelled musty, scent attacking him, and he wrinkled his nose in slight distaste. Having better senses wasn’t always fun.

Jack heard a small plop behind him, and the air was suddenly filled with dust. Jack starting coughing, covering his mouth with his hand.

Jack turned, clenching his fists at his sides. " _Jeff!_ " he hissed. "I just told you to stay put! What part of 'you're waiting outside' didn't you understand?"

Jeff shook his head, smirking at the other as he slipped off of the desk. "You really thought I'd just stay there? I thought you were joking."

Jack took on a defeated look. "I'm not sure what I expected, really."

"Don't look so pitiful," Jeff said disapprovingly. "I'll still let you go first, if you want."

"Oh, why thank you, how very generous," Jack retorted dryly. "I'll take you up on that offer. We're being careful, okay? _Careful._ Quiet. No weird conversations or petty arguments- those have to wait."

"I'll look forward to the weird conversations and petty arguments when I'm allowed to speak again," Jeff commented.

"We're being careful," Jack repeated.

"No talking. Got it."

Jack sighed, gesturing for the other to follow behind him.

Trying to get Jeff not to do something was like trying to get a cat not to do something- it either doesn't work, or they got very irritated with you for trying to stop them. Cats also brought home the corpses of small animals and left them at your doorstep- Jeff seemed to do that sort of thing too.

Jack wondered how Jeff would react if informed that he was being compared to cats. He'd have to tell him about it later.

It was a mostly uneventful trip to go from the second floor to the first. Everything seemed to be going as planned- get in, take a look at a few old documents, and leave.

That is, it was uneventful until they got into a large room with several rows of desks.

Jack froze, turning back and catching Jeff by the sleeve of his hoodie. Jeff was about to open his mouth to question why they had paused like that, but Jack squeezed the other's arm tightly, giving him a wary look.

Jeff looked curious, but was quiet.

Jack didn't do anything for a few seconds, but then pulled Jeff under one of the many desks with him a brief moment later.

A door could be heard creaking open, then footsteps.

Something suddenly felt very familiar.

 


	25. Nostalgia

"I don't know why I'm going through with this. If we're caught, I'm saying you two took me hostage," Mitch hissed under his breath.

"What if we all claim to be hostages at the same time?" Winston remarked. "Then your plan might not work as well."

"We're not going to be caught," Lora said with an exasperated sigh. "This place doesn't have any security at all. Not anything I can't handle, at least. There's no reason for you to even be quiet."

"I find that a little odd," Winston said, narrowing his eyes.

"Why?" Mitch asked. "Because of your conspiracy theory?

"Yes, because of that, but I suppose I could be wrong," Winston said doubtfully.

"I don't get why some hospital would put things about some employees who quit online anyway," Mitch sniffed.

"I wouldn't know, I'm not them," Winston said with a small shrug. "All I know is they put some, but not all of the information up."

"Which is why we're here," Lora reminded them. "So let's get to that, shall we? There's a few rooms to check, so I hope you guys don't mind splitting up."

"I do mind, actually," Mitch muttered. "Not that it matters. My opinion is never taken into consideration."

Winston looked off for a moment, a distracted look on his face.

"Winston?" Lora said, frowning.

"Hmm?" Winston blinked, turning back to the small group. "Oh, I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

Lora eyed the other with an unreadable expression for a moment. "We're splitting up to search rooms," She finally said, gesturing towards the other side of the larger main room, where the smaller rooms crammed with forgotten documents were located.

"I can stand guard out here for a bit, if you'd like," Winston offered.

Lora crossed her arms. "I guess that could be helpful, even though I don't think we're in any danger," She agreed doubtfully.

"Well I do think we're in danger, so that'd actually be reassuring for me," Mitch added, approving of Winston's ideas for once. "I'm sure as hell not going to volunteer to be out here alone, after all."

"This place is hardly scary, Mitch" Lora said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes it is!" Mitch insisted.

"You two have both been very helpful with all this, you know," Winston said suddenly, a faint smile on his lips. "Thank you."

Mitch eyed Winston, startled, for a moment, before he sniffed. "Right, uh, thanks, you too," he said, shaking his head and walking off in the direction of one of the rooms, although he could be heard muttering _'why is everyone so damn weird and sentimental'_. 

Lora, however, didn't shrug the sudden words off as easily as Mitch did. She stared at Winston, trying to figure out exactly why he'd choose to say something like that right then. It wouldn't hurt to be direct. "Why did you say that just now?"

"I wanted to express my thankfulness," Winston said nonchalantly. "...And perhaps Mitch's paranoia is getting to me too."

"I can understand that," Lora said slowly. "But the wording you used was a just little odd."

"Why are you so suspicious of me all of the sudden?" Winston asked, frowning. He was quiet for a moment before speaking again, rather unexpectedly. "I'm sorry, it did sound weird, didn't it?" He gave a slightly sad smile. "Mitch likes to tell me about the odd things I do as well, and I'm getting more aware about what he means. I'm just happy about the progress being made with this 'case'. A lot of people could be saved because of what we're doing." He cleared his throat. "And, well, you've both done a lot more than I ever expected. It's a little _heartwarming_ , you know? There's been a lot of times where it would be perfectly reasonable to just give up, but that didn't happen."

Lora blinked in surprise, being quite caught off guard by the sudden speech. "I didn't know you'd been thinking about it that much," she said honestly, a little nervous. She was easily flustered by ‘emotional moments’ of sorts, not being used to them. "I mean, I guess I feel the same way..."

Winston gave a warm laugh. "Oh my, did I make you a bit nervous? That's quite cute, actually."

"People don't usually use the word 'cute' to describe me," Lora said in embarrassment.

"If we're arrested, or anything else happens-" Winston began solemnly.

"Don't say anything cheesy," Lora said in irritation. "Don't you dare. Mitch was right, we've only known each other for a very short time, it's too soon for that sort of thing."

Winston smirked. "Oh, so that means there's room for cheesiness later on?"

"Don't push your luck."

"Alright, alright, I get it. I just wanted to tell you something is all."

"Go ahead, just don't be dramatic. Do it before I change my mind, Mitch is doing all the work by himself right now and I need to start looking through those boring documents."

"Perhaps you'd be happier if I kept you here, then," Winston said in amusement. "Wouldn't you like to be away from the ‘boring documents?’ "

Lora gave him a miserable look. "Don't tempt me, I have a code of honor."

"I'm sorry, I'll really let you leave this time," Winston apologized. "I just wanted to let you know that I think you're a brilliant woman," He paused for a moment. "And you've got the looks to match what's in your head, which is quite nice," He added, giving a crooked grin.

Lora almost fell over from the immediate shock from the compliments. She hesitated for a moment before deciding on responding. "You're not so bad yourself," She said, which was rather bold for her, really. Her slight confidence fell as her face heated up, the embarrassment returning as quickly as it left.

Winston looked both delighted and slightly concerned. "Ah, was that a bit too direct? I was just giving a few compliments, I didn't want to lose the chance to say them. You should be aware that others appreciate you, I think it's healthy. I’ve always liked telling people what I liked about them. I’ve been called ‘overly affectionate’ before.”

"I suppose," Lora agreed absently, not completely sure what part she was agreeing to.

"It's nice get compliments in return from someone who 'isn't interested in dating', not that that’s what I’m looking for with this," Winston said in amusement. " 'You aren't so bad yourself', huh? That’s what you think? I’m flattered."

Lora sighed. "Pushing your luck," She warned.

"I know," Winston said with a laugh. "You can go now, this time for real."

"Right," Lora sighed, nodding and turning to walk to the rooms. She glanced back to Winston for a moment, holding the gaze for a few seconds before nodding and turning to walk away again.

Winston stood still until the girl had gotten to the other side, into the room, and had closed the door behind her.

His face then went blank, and looked across the room at the many desks.

He took a few silent steps towards one of the desks, eyeing it for a moment before knocking the whole thing over with a strong kick. He stared at the overturned desk thoughtfully as papers fell to the floor along with it, before looking out again at the others.

This situation felt quite familiar, and brought quite the feeling of nostalgia to him.

"Today is a good day," He said, the smile returning to his face, although this time it didn't have any warmth.

 


	26. I don't remember

Jack's heart felt like it was going to burst from his chest it was beating so fast. He held tightly onto Jeff's arm, maybe even hurting the other with how hard his grip was.

Jeff looked at his friend in concern, hardly knowing what was going on. He'd heard the people who had shown up speaking, although he couldn't really tell what they were saying- but that alone shouldn't have made Jack this panicked.

It was silent again now, and Jeff was just about to ask Jack what had him acting like a frightened wild animal, but the silence didn't last long enough for that.

They both froze up again when the loud bang of something heavy hitting the ground echoed throughout the room.

Jack turned to Jeff, slowly letting go of his arm, and leaned closer to whisper into his ear. "You need to get out of here- now."

"What? No fucking way, what the hell is going on?" Jeff hissed back in disbelief.

Jack watched the other for a moment. "Please trust me on this, you need to leave. I'll be right behind you. We're running out of time here."

Another bang, which caused Jack to twitch and become more impatient. "Get up and run, Jeff."

"No, we came here because you wanted to, you're not going to just give up because of a few obstacles," Jeff snarled. "And I'm not sure you're being completely honest about this, or that you'll be right behind me..."

Jack took in a sharp breath of air. "You're sure you want to stand with me on this?"

"Completely and utterly sure," Jeff said firmly, ready to help Jack do whatever he needed to do.

Jack sighed and nodded. "I understand, and I'm sorry."

"Why would you be sorry?"

Jack gave a thin smile, and knocked Jeff's head against the side of the desk they were under, rendering him unconscious.

It was move which mostly worked due to the other not expecting it.

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you put yourself in danger," Jack whispered, knowing how deeply upset his companion would be over this.

Jack crept out from under the desk, crouched down and keeping low, and carefully slipped under another one just a row up. He took a moment to try and calm himself down, although it was hardly working.

It was amazing he could be so afraid of someone when he didn't even know who that someone was.

He hardly even had a plan to deal with this that was any more detailed than 'don't let Jeff get involved'.

He was badly shaken up, even more than usual since he was presented with the real thing rather than just bad memories, but part of him wasn't allowing himself to try and avoid a confrontation.

Perhaps because the situation might let him get some answers, but it could also have some very bad results for his personal well being.

A desk in the row right behind him fell, which meant his tormentor was close.

Jack shivered, and tried to take a quick peek out from his hiding place in an attempt to spot the enemy.

He could see the overturned desk, but there wasn't anyone there. Jack looked down the other side in confusion, but there wasn't anyone in that direction either. This wasn't good at all. Losing track of where a predator is was a serious disadvantage. Fear grew in Jack's chest again.

It was quiet, and Jack was beginning to not trust the silence.

Jack remembered another place the threat could be located a little too late.

Jack gasped and struggled as he was grabbed at the shoulders and pushed down, the attack coming from above.

Face down on the cold ground, he almost choked on dust, sputtering and coughing.

The attacker held both of his arms behind his back, and kept his head down with the other hand.

" _Don't move_. We're going to have a little talk, one which has been scheduled for quite a long time," The predator told him.

It was done. He was caught. Trapped.

Somehow he thought something more special, more intense would happen- but it was over just like that.

"After all this time, it's this easy to catch you," The tormentor finally breathed, saying the same thing Jack was thinking. "That's a little disappointing, you know. You should've at least tried to fight a little bit, but hiding... you're still a coward."

Jack wanted to fight, he did, but he somehow realized it would be a waste. He could sense that he wasn't the one with the power here. Did that really make him a coward?

Jack suddenly felt rather numb to the fear, a little empty feeling. Maybe he was accepting that he had been caught and that he couldn't do a single thing about it, so the fear didn't really matter as much. Now he simply felt angry at himself.

There was something else stopping him from moving, though.

"I suppose I can't blame you though, can I?" The other said, tone becoming more cheery now- Jack remembered that tone. "I do have that sort of effect on the ones like you. They just freeze right up! It's more annoying than convenient, having people get all petrified like that. There are a lot of things that weren't really expected to happen, you know? That's what I get for being a test subject, though," he rambled. His attacker was male, Jack could now tell. "Not that I regret it! I was a volunteer, after all. Small problems can be fixed with time, especially now that you're here..."

"What do you want?" Jack asked, surprising himself by speaking up.

There was a brief pause. "Well that's certainly a vague question. I could give any sort of answer to something like that. I want all sorts of things," A chuckle. "And what I want the most is something that you have. It's quite simple."

"What? What the hell do I have that you want so badly?" Jack said in desperation. "Whatever it is, you can have it!"

"What I want- no, need, is in your head."

"My head?" Jack said in a slightly impatient manner.

"Yes, your head. I want to know everything having to do with the thing that made us both into what we are now," The other said ominously.

Jack stiffened. "I think there's been a mistake."

"Mistake?" The other echoed, voice getting a little quieter. "What mistake?"

"You want something from me that has something to do with what happened in the past, from what I understand," Jack said slowly. "But I don't remember anything from my past. Whatever you want, you're not going to get it."

Jack paused for a moment when the other became quiet, but then started to laugh.

He may have been caught, but he'd also now hopefully ruined the other's day, which was apparently going well until just then.

Barely any of what had been said made sense to him, but he could tell that this discovery wasn't something that would be enjoyed at all.

 


	27. Nurse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slight flashback

"If I don't get to him first, someone else will," Winston reminded the prophet. "And you'll be the one giving his location away. Whatever happens to him will be on you. It's already your fault that the ones who got away before it all happened are dying. Can you really handle being responsible for more death, especially the death of the one you've been trying to protect?"

"As if giving you his location will be any better," The creature said in return, her many voices sounding darker than usual. "Do not speak as if you are a saint when you use your own words like knives and take advantage of other's guilt."

"My end goal is ultimately for the greater good and evolution of man, and when one takes on such a quest he must be willing to make sacrifices and use any means necessary to get to his goal," Winston said, sounding quite confident of his own words. He had no room for doubt, after all.

"I'm sure you like to repeat those words to yourself many times," The prophet said dryly. "You spend so much time thinking about other's flaws, but you don't ever think of your own."

Winston smiled lazily. "Perhaps not, but I'm not the only one avoiding thinking about certain subjects, my dear."

"You lack respect for someone out of their own territory," The creature hissed. "I choose the topics here. I have taken you into this dream to talk about you, not I."

"Yes yes, silly titles and odd sounds that will mean something some time later. I've got all of that. We're done with that topic, so it shouldn't be so unreasonable to start on a new one."

"It's time for you to leave, Winston Blair."

"Not so fast," Winston said, taking a step closer to the other. "I have a proposition for you, one I think you might be more agreeable on. A trade of information, you could say."

"What exactly do you think could possibly be worth enough for me to even consider helping you?" The prophet said, a small amount of curiosity in her voices.

"If you tell me where our old friend Jack is before you tell the others," Winston began slowly, drawing his words out. "I'll give you a clue to who you were when you were human."

The prophet froze in shock for a few moments. "You'd tell me something of my true identity, even though you could've many times before? Why now?"

"Because I know he's close, and I know I'm not the only one trying to find him," Winston explained. "If I had asked where he was before, you could've told me and he could have been too far away at the time. By the time I'd have been able to get to him, he could have been long gone. I needed to at least pin his location down to a specific area first, I need to catch him, not just know where he is," He paused. "And I was saving the information I had to give you for a special occasion. I was only going to trade it in for something I really needed, but this will have to do." He gave a sigh. "So, what do you say? The doctor's whereabouts for a few pieces of the past. He's going to be found and used anyway, and he has a better chance with me."

"A better chance of what?" The creature asked suddenly, although she should know what he was speaking of.

"Everything, I suppose. Take that however you want."

It didn't take as long as he thought it would for her to give in.

"Fine. You'll have the knowledge placed in your head when you awaken," She shifted in discomfort. "It won't be his exact location, exactly, but a place he will be at one point in time, which will make it easier for you," she said in slight disgust.

"I'd rather have the information now," Winston said, a bit annoyed.

"No. I never go back on my deals, but you I can't be sure of," The prophet said suspiciously. "Which means it's your turn first."

Winston laughed, and shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, if you insist." He made a thoughtful noise, waiting a few moments before deciding on what to tell the other. "You were a nurse. You spoke to me sometimes, along with other patients. Actually had real conversations with the people others didn't seem to spend as much time on. You brought in flowers for us on a holiday," he smiled at the memory. "You didn't forget about the forgotten, and not just because it was your job to be around us, either. That's something that makes a real difference, I could see it on their faces when you were around. You'd brighten the room right up- it was kind of like, 'ah, she's here, that means something good is going to happen!' It's a nice impression to make, isn't it?"

The creature in the white suit slumped a little bit. She had almost begun to doubt she was ever human at all. "You aren't lying?"

"You know I'm not."

"I can hardly believe it," The nurse said softly. "But wait- what was my name? Did I have family? If I had a family, are they alive? What did I look like?" She said in a sudden burst of desperation.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you anything else, I apologize," Winston said, a flash of pity showing in his eyes. "I'd like to be able to strike up more deals in the future, you see- that's simply how it works, nothing personal."

The prophet's happiness didn't fade, although she did straighten up again. "I see. It's still something- thank you."

"Your distaste for me seems to have faded," Winston noted in mild surprise. "I'm not quite sure you should be thanking me, really."

"Funny. You should enjoy that I don't feel such things for you for this brief moment, you know," The creature said quietly. "I have other things to think about now, and I'd like to be left alone for that. It's time for you to wake up, even if not completely, as you'll still be the dangerous dreamer you've been for such a long time."

"You go ahead and think about that," Winston said in satisfaction. "And perhaps you'll be more eager to trade information with me the next time we meet."

"Don't keep your hopes up."

 


	28. Cure

He'd been tracking the doctor down for years, and everything had been leading up to this. Once he had the information he needed to recreate the cure, he could finally start fixing and improving mankind. He'd been counting on this moment for it all to work.

And yet, his old friend didn't remember their past at all.

Winston stared blankly down as the other started to laugh.

He stood up, and released the one he'd captured. "Get up," He muttered.

Jack glanced up at the other in surprise, before scrambling to his feet, finally able to look at his attacker. He seemed like wouldn't look all that threatening normally, it seemed, all freckles and comfortable clothes- but the look on his face and the feeling he was giving off made a much more dangerous impression.

And then Winston punched Jack in the face.

It didn't hurt him, of course, but it did give him a bit of a shock.

"You don't remember?" Winston breathed. "You don't fucking remember, after all the trouble that I've gone through to hunt you down?"

"It's not like I've done it on purpose somehow," Jack growled. "I wish I could remember just as much as you do."

"I doubt that you feel as strongly about it as I do, Jack," Winston snapped. "Nobody could."

"I do remember a few things," Jack blurted. "But if you actually told me something, anything, perhaps I'd remember more."

Winston frowned, narrowing his eyes. "What things do you remember?"

"Are you going to punch me again?" Jack asked cautiously.

"I won't hit you as long as you stop testing my patience, Jack," Winston said, giving a smile.

"Fine," Jack straightened up a little. "The first thing I remembered was being in a hospital room. I had barricaded myself in, and I was scared. I had blood on me and something about that was bad, I could tell."

"That would be how you changed," Winston suddenly added. "It travels through blood, spit- things like that."

"What? What is it, what are you talking about? How did I change?" Jack said wearily.

Winston shook his head. "We'll get to that. Go on, I want to hear what you think was going on."

"Some kind of infection which turned people into monsters, it seemed like," Jack guessed. "Although... you don't look like you've changed, but you're stronger than I am," he continued curiously. "From what you said before, you volunteered to be like this, isn't that right? And I didn't- you might have gotten it differently, not through infection like I did..."

Winston's face lit up with delight. "Oh, you are still just as brilliant. You're correct, I was given an injection of it, not a diluted virus."

"You speak as though the one you were willingly injected with wasn't a threat at all, but instead-"

"A cure," Winston said, eyes glinting. "It was a cure."

"A cure for what?" Jack asked, interest building up.

"Continue with your memories first," Winston said, shaking his head.

Jack took in an breath, shifting in discomfort. "The next one was my encounter with you, I believe." Jack waited to see if the other would say anything in reaction, and continued when he didn't. "You were saying that we were the same, and I didn't believe you. Then you hurt me," Jack said slowly, starting to feel a little afraid again. He didn't really want to think about that again. "But you said something else. That it was my fault. What did that mean?"

Winston eyed him curiously. "You really don't remember."

"No."

"I said it was your fault because it was," Winston explained. "You created the cure, after all, which the weaker virus version of it came from."

Jack tensed as a realisation struck him. "That's why I was going to destroy my research papers. That's why I kept talking about guilt and how things got messed up and I got selfish. God, of course, it was so obvious!" He cursed himself.

"You were the one who got rid of the research papers?" Winston growled. "Should've known. I tore the labs and your office apart trying to find something, anything, you know."

"I seemed to be getting rid of them for a good reason, from what I'm hearing," Jack said in irritation. "This cure sounds very dangerous."

"That was because you started letting others change it and dirty your idea, but the cure should've been perfect!" Winston argued, panic in his voice. "It can still be perfect."

"I don't think so," Jack said cautiously. "Whatever I was trying to do, it wasn't a good idea... a terrible idea, really."

"Do you know what the cure was supposed to achieve?" Winston said slowly. "It would cure any sickness. Make you stronger. Smarter. Less violent and disgusting."

Jack drew back in awe. "And I was actually... successful in that goal?" he started in excitement, before his face fell again. "Wait, no, I wasn't successful at all. You, the only example I have of this cure- you're not 'less violent' at all."

"There were side effects, yes," Winston agreed in uncertainty. "but only because others had started working on the project as well. However, I am stronger and capable of a lot more thinking than before," He cleared his throat. "And I told you I volunteered, yes? Well, you gave a few patients the opportunity to try the cure first. Patients with terminal diseases. I wasn't going to live past my twenties. I didn't even think about saying no, I accepted to try this miracle cure instantly."

Jack's face blanked. "I can see now why you're so dedicated to this cure. It sounds life changing," he breathed. "Wait, why was this all happening in a hospital rather than a lab?"

"Well, it was happening in a lab that was in the hospital... but you were both a doctor and a scientist, and I suppose you were able to work on the cure there. I wouldn't know the exact details- only a patient, remember?"

Jack gave a bitter smile. "I don't know if I'd call you 'only a patient'."

"Perhaps not. Anyway, it wasn't meant to have those side effects, or get out and spread an infection- that wasn't your fault. You attracted some interest with such an ambitious project, and by allowing others to work with you you were given access to more equipment and things such as that."

"Wait, you didn't let the infection get out?"

"Me?" Winston gave an offended look. "Of course not! I had nothing to do with that, I just observed a little bit of what happened to the people around me in reaction to it. I didn't want it to happen, nor did I enjoy the side effects that I had to live with."

"I'm surprised you admit to having the side effects in the first place. Who could've caused a virus to get out, though?"

Winston frowned. "I can't always control myself perfectly, my emotions just... take over. I'm not happy with it, no, I want it to stop. I'm perfectly content with pretending I'm fine any time other than this, but I'd like you to understand the urgency here. I need to be fixed. I don't like the 'accidental' things I cause to happen to others, such as what I did with you- they just happen." He waved a hand and scoffed. "To your question, I don't know. Someone let out a few failed test subjects, and it spread just like that. It was definitely done on purpose, though."

"Done on purpose, huh... that's not good at all. That's a very bad sign," Jack said quietly. "This definitely would not have been what I had been trying to create. I was quite naive if I let the possibility of such a thing happening even exist."

"You were naive, yes. You know, there was a name a few of the other people working on it used when you weren't around, which I thought was rather fitting," Winson muttered.

Jack looked at the other for a moment. "What was the name they were using?"

"The humanity cure. I don't think you were the only one with plans for the future, Jack."

 


	29. A better story to tell

Lora shut the door behind her, waiting a few moments.

Breath in, breath out, breath in... and stop. Hold it.

It was a lucky break that there were two ways in and out of the small room she had just entered, and that meant Mitch's room, the one next to hers, must be the same.

She strode across the room, grasping the doorknob to the other exit in firmly her hand, then opening it softly. Empty hallway. She hesitated for a second, but it was gone as soon as she had touched the next door.

Mitch was lounging in a chair, and it took him a moment to notice her, and when he did, he jumped. He then gave her a bewildered look. "Lora, what're you doing in here? I thought we were each taking a room on our own."

There's a muffled banging sound from the main room. Mitch jumps again- Lora does not.

"Winston's up to something," Lora stated.

Mitch frowns at her. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. There's something going on here that we don't know about," Lora said. "I don't know what in particular, but I know when this kind of thing is going on."

"So you say, but you haven't given me any evidence on this," Mitch snapped.

"There are plenty of signs," Lora said, taking a breath. "But one thing that stands out to me is that he wanted to stand guard. Someone like him would usually go straight to looking through the papers, not being out there. When you're so interested in this kind of thing, and he _is_ the one finding all the information, then you wouldn't leave the finding important clues job to others. He'd probably know what we're trying to find by first glance. Having us try to find these papers makes this whole thing take much, much longer, and doesn't make any sense to someone logical."

Mitch blinked, taking a moment to absorb the information presented. "Oh. Well... I suppose you might have a point of some sort. That's weird, yeah."

"You were too happy about not having to stand guard yourself that you didn't think about it," Lora deduced with a small smirk.

Mitch sniffed, shifting in discomfort. "Maybe. I don't think I'd get that paranoid about it anyway, most people don't over simple things like that- but now you've made me nervous, reading into things like that. What's going on, then?"

"I know _something_ is going on, but not what," Lora admitted. "But I'd like to find out. I've been around people who were all trying to stab each other in the back as a normal occurance, I know when something odd is going on.” She paused, and gave Mitch a pointed look. “I'd like you to stay in here, just in case. You can listen for anything going on at the door, but don't move. Even if you hear something odd, I think it'd be better for you to be in here and not do anything irrational."

Mitch ran a hand through his messy hair. "You're pretty worried. I guess I can do that, but no promises.” He tilted his head and furrowed his brows at the other. “Wait, does that mean you're going somewhere?"

"Yes. I'll be in the ceiling."

Mitch gave her a blank look. "... The ceiling? Are you being serious right now?"

"Completely serious," Lora said with a quick nod, as though there shouldn’t have been a doubt in the first place.

"Wouldn't it be easier to just go up to Winston and ask why he's acting like a fucking suspicious bastard?"

"Easier, maybe, but more fun? No, the ceiling wins. If it all ends up a misunderstanding I'll have a better story to tell," Lora replied, although having other reasons for going up in the ceiling she wasn’t mentioning.

Mitch gave her a weary look. "I... if you say so. I hope you have fun with that."

"Yes, let's hope so,” Lora agreed.

 


	30. Unsupervised

Listening in to the conversation between her friend, or perhaps only thought to be friend, and the one they'd been hunting had revealed more than Lora had even began to suspect in a very short time.

She should probably feel some kind of overwhelming feeling of panic right about now, since a giant scheme of epic proportions seemed to be revealed. 

She didn't feel like that at all. 

She did feel uneasy very briefly, but that emotion was replaced by what could be described as being incredibly pissed off.

She was angry. Just the slightest bit confused, but not by much, as she didn't have the time to try and sort things out mentally. Not confused about the larger plot that had been revealed, but by Winston. Really, she wanted to question him herself, but was waiting for the correct time to do something about all of this. She didn't even know if she wanted to do anything about it at all, since if he didn't know she was listening she might have the upper hand in later questioning. She could pretend she didn't know anything until the right moment.

She'd have to work for that, however, as Winston seemed to be a much more interesting person than she anticipated.

What a thing it was to discover someone you'd been working with was actually a manipulative super-human monster with delusions of grandeur. Didn’t happen every day, that was for sure.

For the smallest of moments, she actually felt rather impressed, and the challenge the other presented was appealing. Risks were appealing. This whole thing was appealing to a certain part of her, really.

She avoided the spark of interest, pushing it away quickly, as it was a part of herself she'd rather not indulge. A part of herself that wasn't quite as practical and ‘good’ as the rest of her was, or as good she wanted and tried to be.

Once she pushed those thoughts away, she remembered the whole thing was completely insane, and how much the rest of her hated being wrapped up in it.

She also remembered a bit too late, as she was distracted sorting through her own thoughts, that she had left Mitch unsupervised and had told him to listen in.

She regretted that, as nothing good was going to come out of it.

A third voice was heard not a moment later, confirming her fears.

***

Winston frowned, and turned his head over to look at Mitch, who had just burst out of the room he'd been stationed in.

The poor man sure did look upset. That was the best word to describe it in a short fashion, he supposed, but Mitch looked like he was having a hard time sticking to one emotion. He was shaking a bit, face red, generally disheveled (he did look disheveled normally, but this was different)- possibly the worst he'd ever seen the other.

Well, it was to be expected. He must've listened in, as Winston had held as being a very high possibility. It didn't matter, but he felt bad for Mitch, seeing how emotionally distressed he looked. Not sorry for anything he had done, but sorry Mitch had to have this kind of reaction to it. If he could’ve had it some other way, he would’ve, but this really was for the best.

"You..." Mitch began shakily, expression looking pained when catching the other's eye.

"You look terrible, Mitch." Winston said, tilting his head and offering Mitch a smile. His speech was quite casual, as he knew it'd provoke a reaction.

Mitch's face changed into a look of complete anger, and he stiffened up. "You're a piece of fucking shit, Winston Blair! What the actual _fuck?!_ "

"You sound angry, did I do something wrong?" Winston asked, feigning innocence, another thing he knew would no doubt provoke Mitch.

"Did you- did _you_ do something fucking _wrong?_ " Mitch sputtered. "Being a backstabbing liar, for starters. Did I mention _backstabbing liar?_ You just... I can't fucking believe this is happening to me! What the hell?"

"You did mention that, yes," Winston replied. “And I disagree. I'm no liar, I simply didn’t mention things sometimes if I wasn’t asked."

"We've been friends for years," Mitch whimpered, mood changing slightly again. "And you never mention being a fucking freak monster? I don't even care about that, even if it does scare the living fuck out of me! You were always there, seeing how much I was struggling with trying to find _this_ fucker-" He gestured wildy to Jack, who had been standing by awkwardly and trying to pretend he wasn't there, but who also shifted in discomfort when pointed at. "-and you knew so fucking much, yet didn't say anything! Hell, you're a part of everything, more so than I am!"

Jack wasn't sure if he should be offended or uncomfortable with all of this going on right then while he was there, but he was pretty sure he had gotten trapped in a room with possibly the worst people to be trapped in a room with. He was letting himself be trapped, though, so he was partially to blame for this and couldn't really complain. He was actually the one to be blamed for practically everything, so he really, _really_ couldn't complain.

Mitch's shoulders sagged a bit. "Figures I'm experiencing the most terrifying things in my life and my only friend happens to be actually fucking _evil_ along with everything else," he muttered. "and I am terrified right now for many, many reasons, just so you know." Mitch shot a very pointed look in Jack's direction.

Winston blinked, crossing his arms and giving a blank expression. "You have other friends, though, Mitch. You can forget about me and go back to them easily. Living normally suits you, and you certainly deserve it after what you've been through. I highly suggest doing that."

Mitch gave a look of complete disbelief. "Are you… are you fucking kidding me right now? I don't have 'other friends', you fuckwad. Have you seen me? I'm rude, depressive, and I'm obsessed with finding _monsters_. People thought I was fucking crazy, hell, I thought I was too sometimes. Then you magically fucking appeared, saying you believed my shitty badly written story and that you were interested. Hell, you even helped me give this asshole monster a name! After all I've done and been through, you just say 'alright, you're no longer needed, time to go home'?" he hissed.

Jack looked over at Winston, slightly annoyed. "So that's why it was the same name I had originally, then," He muttered. He had briefly wondered why Winston had been calling him by the same name that others knew him as, having known him before he was a monster. He had thought it was just easier to call him that, but it had been slightly confusing. His real name was the same as the name he had adopted purposefully.

Winston didn't acknowledge Jack's muttering, although Mitch look briefly startled by his speaking up.

Winston frowned at Mitch. "You've barely ever referred to me as even _being_ a friend, Mitch, especially not a close one, so I didn't really think I was very high up in your standards at all. I thought you hated me, really."

"...If I didn't hate you before, I do now," Mitch said blankly.

Winston flinched. Oh, now that actually _hurt_ , and it felt odd. He hadn't really prepared for this. He felt slight regret, and the feeling was something he hadn't felt in quite a long time. Like he had lost something he never even knew he had in the first place. If he'd known he'd actually had a friend in Mitch all that time, would he had done anything differently? 

He didn't have room for such thoughts, as past was past and it was much better for Mitch to not be involved with him- for his own good. For everyone’s own good. Winston wasn't stable enough, and it was too dangerous to be friends with him.

It was better this way, right?

Winston forced a smile before he could do anything on impulse. "Hating me now should make things easier, then," he said, nodding. "However, you weren't correct on what you said. I believe you have a friendship with Lora. You may have _horrid_ self-esteem and often second guess yourself, but she doesn’t actually dislike you as you most likely believe. You two can go back to your lives now."

Mitch was still for a moment. He looked over at Jack for a moment, and then to Winston again. Mitch's mouth was in a thin line, and his eyes were large.

Winston watched Mitch for a moment, before figuring out what was going on. Mitch had run out of the energy he had gotten from his anger and outburst, and he was now remembering what kind of situation he was in. Two 'monsters', as he called them, and one of him.

Mitch did not care about the bigger scheme going on. He did not care about the monster's supposed good intentions. And he _really_ didn’t have the willpower to stand in the room and act like he was unfazed.

Mitch was going to flip out and make a run for it, and Winston didn't exactly like the idea of that. He did mean to let Mitch go, but not when he was behaving like this. This wasn't 'I hate you, and I don't want anything to do with you ever again' behavior, it was 'I hate you, I'm completely panicked, and I'm going to do something about it' behavior.

Winston narrowed his eyes. "Mitch, if you're thinking of doing something stupid, I don't think that's the best idea at the moment. Not that it ever is, but you do like to do such things."

Mitch looked dangerously skittish, and gave a slightly crazed smile. "So you've got super-human strength or whatever, but are you as fast as I am, you oversized fuck?"

Winston wasn't too impressed, and raised an eyebrow at the childish jab. "My legs are longer than your legs, and you're out of shape, Mitch. If you'd like to test your luck, however, go ahead," he said, leering.

Mitch froze, and stared at Winston. "Maybe I'll have a head start."

Winston frowned, drawing back in suspicion. "Oh? How will you be managing that?" He asked doubtfully.

"Through cheating," Mitch said.

And before Winston had the chance to think about what the hell that meant, Lora made her appearance through a ceiling panel directly above Winston and half landed on his head.

Mitch took his chance and bolted, luck turning out to be better than was thought.

Winston fell to his knees clutching the back of his head, and although unharmed, he was still cursing heavily at the surprise of it.

Lora, after landing skillfully on Winston's head (almost as if she had a previous history in performing surprise ceiling attacks?), had made a second landing on the floor, and didn't look very fazed by what she had just done.

Jack didn't actually do anything, but was still very concerned over this group of people and what he had just witnessed. He had contemplated doing something, but he hadn't actually decided whose side he was on, and wouldn't have known who to defend. He wasn't sure he wanted to pick a side, either.

Lora looked at Jack, and he looked at her right back.

Jack almost waved, but wasn't sure that was appropriate.

And then, he mentally said ' _fuck it'_ and waved anyway, because wow, that whole jumping on his old enemy/friend thing so her friend could run away in terror was pretty badass.

Lora nodded in return to the wave, and decided with that and everything she had heard that maybe Jack wasn't such a bad guy after all. He _had_ murdered her brother, of course, and that _could_ make things uncomfortable, but Lora was an unusual person and had earlier deduced that perhaps the doctor-turned-monster wasn't always in control of himself.

It was a very strange and brief moment of bonding for them.

Winston was still cursing.

 


	31. Kidding

"Hello," Lora said, looking to the doctor with a thin smile. "I'm Lora. Interesting situation we're in, isn’t it?"

Jack couldn’t help but give an awkward laugh. "Yes, I know who you are, and I'm guessing you know who I am. Although since you do, I'm not sure why you aren't trying to strangle me or anything- because that would be _completely_ justified, you know." Perhaps most people wouldn't be giving others invitations to physically hurt them, but Jack, yet again, wasn't most people. He thought he might deserve a bit of strangling at this point. He more than thought that.

"You know, I find myself thinking of you in a different light after hearing that conversation," Lora said. "So I don't feel the need to strangle you at the moment. I'm still working out a few theories in my mind, you see, and attacking first and asking questions later has never been something I was fond of anyway. Ask me about the strangling again later, though, we'll see what I'll have decided by then."

"Right, I'll keep the offer open then," Jack said, nodding respectfully. He could tell a lot of attention had been taken off of him with the confrontation that had occured. 

Winston, after sitting silently on the floor for a few moments, finally got up again.

Lora gave him an expectant look. "Winston. Sorry about that incident with the ceiling. What'll we be doing about your friend here?"

Winston stared at Lora thoughtfully. "Ah, no yelling? No insults? I expected some good vengence from you, Lora."

"Which would _also_ be completely justified," Jack added encouragingly, getting an annoyed look from Winston.

"Perhaps in a while, but I'm afraid I don't want to have a tantrum when there are other things to be taken care of," Lora sighed. "I don't like mixing personal feelings with work."

Jack frowned. "You consider this work?"

"It sure as hell takes a lot of work," Lora scoffed. "To be honest, I tend to think of most things as work. Effort placed forward to achieve a purpose. Fitting for most things, right? Easier to think that way."

Jack didn't say so out loud, but he found that kind of viewpoint a bit sad. Although in this situation, it might be useful to have someone who feels that way about things.

Lora tilted her head. "I know what you're thinking, but it works well enough for me. I don't like pity. I hardly need it."

Jack gave a startled look. "I didn't say anything!"

"Your facial expressions aren't very guarded." Lora informed the other. "That’s fine, though. You might as well speak your mind since you'll give yourself away anyway."

Winston interrupted them by clearing his throat. "I do love seeing this bonding, but there are other things to be taken care of, remember? You said so yourself, Lora dear," he said pleasantly.

Lora shrugged. "I know. I did want to chat with the doctor a bit, but I didn't want to have to give you any sort of emotional reaction along with that."

"Oh? That sounds nice," Jack said, a very pleased little smile on his face. "The chatting part, I mean, not the emotional reaction bit- you don't have to do that just because you want to talk to me, I think."

"Just figured if I did one vaguely emotional thing, I might be obliged to go along with the other as well," Lora said, eyeing Winston.

"This isn't really the best place to have a bunch of conversations," Winston sniffed.

"You already had a bunch of them, though," Lora reminded him.

"I'm aware, but if given another option I think it would be smarter if we perhaps had any more conversations in a safer place," Winston said impatiently. "I say this because you two are acting pretty calmly at the moment, which is _odd_ , but I'm not going to jinx myself by doubting it. Since you two are both _logical people_ you should be fine with talking someplace else."

Lora chuckled. "I do agree with you, Winston, I just wanted to point out the less logical conversations before, and how funny it is that you're now insisting that we have safer talks elsewhere. You should appreciate how calm I'm acting about this, and that Jack isn't doing so bad with it either."

"Hm, yes, you're having a good reaction other than the whole attacking me from the ceiling thing," Winston said, narrowing his eyes.

"That was nothing personal," Lora said, giving a half mocking smile.

"Oh yes, I'm sure it wasn't," Winston said sarcastically.

"Talking sounds wonderful," Jack said to himself in a dreamy way, sighing. "Even if it ends up scarily, I really miss _talking_. Haven't talked to anyone other than Jeff in such a long time, and even though I do adore him, being able to talk to more people is so completely welcome..."

Lora, always the inquisitive one, gave Jack a curious look. "It'll certainly be nice to talk, as I have many questions, but here's a question for right now- who's this Jeff?"

Jack snapped to attention. "Oh _christ_ ,” He breathed. “that's right, _Jeff,_ " he murmered, putting a hand to his face and cursing himself. "I forgot all about him with all of this. He's going to hate me..."

Winston stared at Jack for a moment. "Did you bring this person along?" He asked.

"Yes, he was very pushy about coming along, and I, well," Jack sighed. "I sort of knocked him out. I figure he would've jumped out and tried to stab you otherwise, and that wouldn't have ended well. For him in particular, I mean, seeing what you're like," He said, gesturing vaguely at Winston.

Winston gave Lora a look, and she seemed to understand something about what it meant, because her eyes widened and she nodded. Jack decided not to question it.

"He would've jumped out and tried to _stab_ me?" Winston asked, raising an eyebrow. "What kind of person is this friend of yours, Jack? Keeping interesting company now?"

Jack frowned. "I uh..." He swallowed, a guilty look coming across his face. "I can't really say right here, but-"

Before Jack could finish, there was a brief moment of chaos. He barely caught what happened, exactly. One moment they were all standing there, the next Lora suddenly taking some evasive maneuver which including a quick roll and put her next to Jack instead of Winston, and Winston was forcefully grabbing someone by the arm.

That someone being a very frustrated and hysteric Jeff, who was now repeatedly stabbing at Winston's side in an attempt to get away from his grasp, which Winston didn't pay much mind to.

Instead, Winston gestured to the killer with his free arm. "Is this yours?" He asked, giving Jack an annoyed look.

Jack frowned, biting his lip. "Maybe?"

Jeff sputtered, struggling now, as he had given up on the stabbing for the time being.

"Quite the feisty little guy, isn't he?" Winston said, smirking.

"Get your hands offa' me, asshole," Jeff hissed through clenched teeth, glaring at Winston.

"Mmm, I would, but right now it seems like you're going to try to attack my dear friend here if I do," Winston said, nodding to Lora. "So I'm afraid you're going to be staying right here."

Lora tilted her head, somehow even more eerily calm now. She had a new rip on her jacket she seemed to not notice. "I'm fine, but thank you, I suppose. We're lucky Mitch ran out, he might've fainted in reaction to this." She gave Jeff a thoughtful look. "Does that hurt?"

Jack could smell blood. He licked his lips and stared at the floor, guilty feelings welling up again as he tried to ignore how fucking _good_ that smelled.

Jeff glanced over at her. "Are you talking to me?"

Lora nodded, crossing her arms.

"My face? Not anymore. Cool, right?" Jeff said, pride in his tone, almost forgetting he was supposed to be acting aggressive. He never seemed to miss out on the chance to gush about himself.

Lora glanced to Jack for a moment. "That's interesting. Shouldn't the eyes have dried out or something along those lines without any form of protection?"

Jack snapped out of his daze, giving her a surprised look. "That's exactly what I thought! Somehow, they just stay like that, and he won't let me perform any sort of tests to see why. Not that I'm an eye doctor, so if theres any reasonable explanation that would be obvious to one of those, I wouldn't know. He either constantly uses eye drops when I'm not looking, which sounds a bit silly and probably impossible, or there’s some sort of other, possibly unnatural, reason behind it."

Lora looked geniunely curious. "If you find out anything further I would like it if you would share it with me."

"Certainly! I'm glad to see someone as scientifically fascinated over this as I am," Jack said excitedly.

Jeff scowled at them. "I'm not a damn test subject," he muttered.

Winston rolled his eyes. "Now I'd join in on this sort of talk normally, but you two are getting a bit off subject again."

Lora straightened up. "Of course, I'm sorry. I'm just quite enjoying talking to my brother's murderer, you see, he's quite pleasant," She said, possibly a little sarcastically.

Jack frowned. "And I'm just glad she finds me pleasant despite the whole 'brother's murderer' thing- _really_ sorry about that by the way, did I mention that?" he said the last bit in a more of a hushed tone, cringing.

"Hey, are you seriously not freaked out by me at all, lady?" Jeff suddenly questioned. “What the hell’s up with that?”

"If you call me lady I'm going to have to call you 'kid' in revenge," Lora warned. She didn't feel that there was anything wrong with ladies or being one, of course, but she didn't think of herself as being particularily ladylike.

"Okay, fine, but answer the question," Jeff agreed quickly, more than considerably warned off by the threat of being called 'kid'.

"Glad we have an agreement," Lora said approvingly. "To your question- If I am frightened by you at all, I'm choosing not to act on it, as I don't believe it would achieve much. You have an unexpected appearance I choose to find interesting rather than unsettling. You were acting in a threatening fashion, and perhaps still are, but when comparing you jumping out with everything else that's happened today it's a bit underwhelming. You also feel a bit direct. I can understand your actions and their meanings easily, when a lot of other things today have been more difficult to get through my head. Your attempted attack is almost refreshing. Does that answer your question?"

Jeff gave her a bewildered look. "That didn't answer my question at all, but I'm not going to try to ask again now."

"Suit yourself,” Lora offered with an indifferent.

"You're a little different," Jack said to Lora, also a little alarmed. "Not trying to be insulting, I just..."

"Of course I am," Lora replied matter-of-factly. "I have to be in order to be in this situation. Everyone here is 'a little different', and I think if I wasn't a little odd I'd already be dead, or simply not here at all."

"Makes sense," Winston said, grinning at her. He found Lora's personality and way of thinking rather amusing, and liked encouraging it.

Jeff thrashed about suddenly, before going limp and groaning, looking pretty childish. He then started to put his efforts towards trying to pull his arm out of his hoodie to escape, but that wasn't working either. At least it gave him something to do other than glaring at everyone. The glares for Winston and Jack were angry ones, but with Lora he just gave her a vaguely suspicious look that was occasionally half challenging.

Jeff was uncertain if the girl was messing with him or if she was actually just a really strange person, but either way it provoked him. He enjoyed messing with others but he was also just a weird person normally, so when finding someone sharing those traits it felt like he should be doing something about it. He just wasn't sure what yet. Of course he still wanted to stab her, but he seemed to be on some sort of stabbing time out at the moment, disappointingly enough. And she dodged. Actually dodged _him._ She’d still gotten a cut, but her jacket was despairing over this more than she was. That irritated him on so many levels. He didn’t leave witnesses. 

Jeff turned his head to bite at Winston's arm a bit to show his disapproval, and also just because he was kind of bored and felt like biting something.

Winston narrowed his eyes at Jack. "Your pet is biting me. It’s kind of gross. Are you going to insist we bring him along? I feel like you are, this behavior from him just confirms it. You're going to be like one of those people that bring their horrible little dogs everywhere even though their beloved pet hates everyone."

"Ah, I know exactly what people you're talking about!" Lora said in recognition. 

"He's not my pet!" Jack snapped. "He's a _person_ , and my friend, even if he's a bit, uh," Jack glanced at Jeff, frowning. "...unbalanced."

"That's a polite way to put it," Winston remarked.

"Hey, look at yourself," Jack said with a sniff. "You can't say much about anyone else's mental problems when you're like that yourself."

"Well excuse me, I'm _working on it_ ," Winston hissed. "Is he? I'm all about improvement, but this guy looks pretty trigger-happy."

"More like stab-happy," Lora added, snickering almost uncharacteristically.

Winston gave Lora a begrudging look for her lame joke.

Jack stiffened a bit, feeling affronted by being presented with the issue he himself stressed over constantly. It was always fine as long as he could live in a fantasy world where he hardly ever acknowledged the things Jeff did. He looked at Jeff again, going quiet.

Jeff scoffed. "Talking about me like I'm not here. Typical."

Jack inched a little closer to Jeff, voice softer. "Jeff, hey, this is important. For me, for you- for a lot of people, alright? Do you think you can control yourself for a bit? I'll help you, you know..."

Jeff watched him for a few moments, expression completely neutral. "Yeah, sure," he finally agreed, rather casually. Much too casually.

"Huh. That's convincing," Lora said sarcastically.

Jack sighed. "...Well, I trust him. If he says he'll try to control himself, even if he says it like _that_ , I trust him." Jack didn't trust Jeff's urges, but he did think he trusted Jeff. He'd try and do something about it himself, too. As a doctor.

Jeff wouldn’t like that.

"Good, I'm glad," Winston said, giving Jack a smile. "Because if he tries to hurt her again, I'll kill him."

Jack froze for a moment under Winston's gaze, fear building up for an instant before it was gone again. "I see," He said simply.

Winston gave a laugh, released Jeff, and patted Jack on the back. "You looked terrified for a moment there! I was just kidding, you know, no need to get panicked. We're all _friends_ here."

Suddenly, it was certain to everyone in the room that even though he said he was, Winston wasn't kidding at all.


	32. Tired

Lora shuffled into Winston's house, throwing her jacket on a chair and sighing deeply.

She ignored the two new additions of the group coming in behind her, and went to tug gently on Winston's shirt. "Can we talk?" She asked quietly.

Winston eyed her curiously. "Is it time for the scheduled emotional breakdown?"

"It's not a breakdown, it's me wanting to talk to you," Lora said firmly.

Winston blinked, then smiled and ruffled her hair. "Sure. My room? It's over here," He said, lightly pushing her in the right direction.

"I know where your room is- I made sure to familiarize myself with the mapping of this house when I first came here," Lora said casually, allowing herself to be pushed anyway. "It's a habit of mine."

Winston stared at her for a second before laughing. "You do the most _entertaining_ things sometimes, I swear." He then glanced back to their odd guests with a slight frown. "I hope I can leave those two alone for a few minutes to talk to you. Christ, I'm actually tired," Winston sighed. "Antagonizing people really drains your energy sometimes, I think."

Lora laughed. "I understand exactly what you mean."

"Should I ask what you mean by that?"

"If you really wanted to ask, I wouldn't lie," Lora said carefully. "But you'd have to ask the right questions."

Winston hummed thoughtfully. "...Say, let's make a deal, shall we? I'll tell the truth if you say the right things to me, you know, ask the right questions and such."

Lora paused, giving him a look. "Sounds fair enough."

Winston grinned, walked into his room, and took a seat on the bed.

Lora closed and then leaned against the door, eyeing Winston. "So. I want to know why you didn't tell us anything."

Winston shrugged. "Well. More convenient to use you and just be able to run off one day, I suppose, but that didn't go quite as planned. Cowardly maybe, but convenient."

Lora abandoned her position at the door and took a few hesitant steps forward. "That's what I thought you'd say, but that's another lie, isn't it? A very shaky lie, too."

Winston frowned, narrowing his eyes. "Why do you say that?"

"You seem to plan and think things out too carefully for things to just get out of hand," Lora began, laying out her theory. "You said to Jack you can't control yourself sometimes, that your emotions just take over, but when that isn't happening you're very much aware of everything you're doing, aren't you? You don't make mistakes if you can help it, either."

Winston's eyes widened a bit, but he didn't get a chance to speak up as Lora went on.

"You were trying to get a reaction out of Mitch. That would've been considered inconvenient if you were really just going to leave us- you'd avoid a huge emotional reaction for that. You knew Jack was there. I saw how distracted you were, and how quickly you insisted on standing guard. If you wanted to get away from us you would never have brought us to the place you knew the one we'd been hunting was in. Going alone would've been easy, and that would have been a perfect time to leave us, escaping with Jack without a single worry. You brought us there so we could hear you." Lora leaned in closer to the other. "You didn't want to leave us, you wanted us to leave _you._ To want nothing to do with you anymore and then give up on this, perhaps. Which was quite a gamble on your part. We seemed to have more faith in you than you thought."

Winston sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Hm… Anything else you wanted to add?"

Lora blinked. "No. Was I right? It seems I was since you aren't trying to correct me."

"I would try to correct you, but you're almost impossibly good a deduction," Winston scoffed. "Yes, you're right, good job. Figured me out."

"I pieced together things from your actions, but I still don't actually know all the thoughts and feelings behind them," Lora said in sudden embarrassment. "I uh... I wanted to be a detective when I was younger. Terrible dream for someone born into a life of crime, really, but being able to make sense of things is useful in any line of work."

Winston glanced up at her curiously, tilting his head. The personal information being suddenly offered up surprised him. "Born into a life of crime? Weren't you blackmailed into it, or something like that?"

Lora shifted a bit. "Not exactly. I didn't say the exact details since I thought it might make you and Mitch uncomfortable with me. It's better not to get others tangled up in all of that stuff."

Winston smirked. "...And there's why I lied to you."

Lora watched him for a moment. "You were... trying to keep us out of something more dangerous. Make yourself the bad guy so that we'd hate and want nothing to do with you. From what I hear, you've got more of a conscience than anyone seems to acknowledge, even though it's actually rather _obvious_ , isn’t it?"

Winston nodded. "I didn't think of it as being a gamble at the time, but I suppose it was a gamble that I didn't win."

"Because of how Mitch reacted perhaps too much, and how I didn't react," Lora added.

Winston chuckled. "So the kick really wasn't personal after all, then?"

"No, that was only for Mitch's sake," Lora said honestly.

"So where _is_ your show of reaction?" Winston questioned. "Come on. You must have something defiant to say to me about all of this."

"You really want me to say something about it?" Lora asked, frowning.

"Yes, I really do. You seem like you don't let yourself say things sometimes, but I'm giving you permission," Winston grinned. "I know you're mad at me."

"Well, fine, if you insist." Lora took in a breath, neutral expression changing into an irritated one. "First off, I'm not delicate or weak- you can't decide to protect me from what I _chose_ to get tangled up in," Lora said firmly. "And secondly..."

"Go on?" Winston said with a faint smile.

Lora was still for a moment before sitting down on the bed beside Winston. "I was kind of hoping you had a reason like that for lying to us. It's a stupid reason that irritates me, but it's a more understandable and caring one," Lora sighed. "I don't trust you, but I guess all the charming behavior got to me a bit and I couldn't help but like you a little." She flopped back on the bed suddenly. "I don't want another enemy, Winston. I was angry, but now I'm just not for some reason. I should probably dislike you, but I really don't. I don't hate you at all, and I don't think anything you can do will make me hate you- so I'd suggest giving up on trying that tactic again."

Winston was quiet.

Lora lay there peacefully for a minute before sitting up again.

When she did so, Winston just about tackled her with one of his tight hugs.

Lora tensed for a moment before relaxing. "Winston?" She muttered.

"Sorry," Winston mumbled. "Sorry sorry sorry."

"Are you alright?" Lora asked carefully.

"I don't know," Winston said weakly into her ear. His breath tickled a bit. "Nobody has ever talked to me like that. I don't understand it at all. You should hate me, but you don't. I'm just- I'm really tired right now. Not in the right mindset. Not composed."

Lora chuckled. "That makes two of us, then. It's been a kind of a long day, huh? How late is it now, anyway...?"

Winston was quiet for a moment, then he gave Lora a squeeze and pulled her downward with him, flopping onto the covers and pillows.

Lora made a noise of protest. "Winston, can you not-"

"Shhh," Winston purred. "Just go with it. I'm sure nobody will notice if we just take a quick nap..."

Lora scowled. "You know, if we didn't just have a small emotional moment, or whatever you’d call it, I would've wondered you planned this."

"Me, plan to get a cute girl into my bed?" Winston mock scoffed. "Preposterous! I would never do such a thing. Maybe I considered it to be a possible outcome, but in an entirely innocent way. Now sleep."

"Oh yes, I'm sure it's very innocent," Lora muttered sarcastically.

They were quiet for a few moments.

"Winston?" Lora said softly. "Are you pretending to sleep?"

Winston's lips curved upward faintly, but he didn't say anything.

Lora sighed. "Well, I won't be sleeping. Not even pretend sleeping."

It was silent again, but it was a nice, comfortable silence.

Lora accidentally fell asleep a few minutes later.


	33. Oh

Jack hadn’t been in a properly functioning house in a while. He would be enjoying it, but he was too busy keeping an eye on Jeff. Not to mention it was difficult to relax after everything that had happened- he was on full alert lately.

It had gotten quiet and awkward feeling after the owner of the house and his partially betrayed friend had gone off to talk, leaving them alone in an unknown area.

Jack leaned on the kitchen counter, eyeing Jeff warily while the other looked through the contents of the refrigerator. “How’s your head? Do you want to put some ice on it or anything?” Jack asked softly, feelings of guilt showing up again easily. Guilty all of the damn time, that was Jack. 

Jeff gave him a slightly annoyed look. “I’m fine, I can deal with it. I’ve had worse injuries, although none of them inflicted by someone I thought was my _friend_...”

Jack instantly tensed, scowling, his voice raised. “Were you listening at all? Someone threatened to _kill you,_ Jeff! If I had let you go out there you’d be fucking dead.”

Jeff froze for a moment at the sudden change of tone, giving a blank look. Jeff never responded well to Jack showing anger.

Jack sighed, anger fading. “Look- I’m sorry, I really am. I did what I did _because_ I’m your friend. You really have to listen to me sometimes, Jeff.”

“I didn’t know what was going on, I was just trying to help you,” Jeff muttered, finally deciding to leave the fridge alone and acknowledge the conversation that was going on properly. 

“I know,” Jack said weakly. “I know you were, and that made me _really happy._ It just wouldn’t have been very helpful if you ended up dead. If I had told you what was going on you would’ve never listened.”

Jeff shrugged. “...I guess not. I still don’t know what happened. You knocked me out, remember?”

Jack cringed. “Right, I suppose you didn’t hear anything then, even though everyone else did... I should explain now, shouldn’t I?”

“Obviously,” Jeff sniffed. 

Jack took his time retelling the story, trying not to leave anything out. 

Jeff looked pretty pissed off when he was done.

“The guy who treated me like a dog is the one who _gouged your eyes out?_ I’ll fuckin’ kill him!” Jeff hissed, looking uncomfortably unstable.

“No, no no no- don’t even think about it!” Jack said, grabbing Jeff’s shoulder. “Don’t provoke him! I can’t figure out what’s going on without him. You can’t even hurt him, anyway, so it’s useless. Please don’t try to take some shitty revenge for me.”

“Why aren’t you angry?” Jeff growled.

“It happened such a long time ago, it hardly matters now,” Jack muttered. “And he’s going to help me now. I already get enough stress from the past, I don’t want to freak out about one stupid fucking thing that happened when there are other more important things to deal with.”

Jeff groaned, shaking his head. “Fine, whatever. I’m not going to pretend to like him, though, even if you are.”

“I’m already friends with one mentally unstable person, I don’t see why I shouldn’t go ahead and add another,” Jack said dryly.

“I haven’t hurt you!” Jeff protested. “He has. He could do it again. He threatened me, too, like you said!”

Jack gave Jeff a sad look. “Oh, Jeff... he threatened you because you tried to hurt someone he cares about. The same thing you were just doing with me. You _both_ can’t always control yourselves perfectly, but you’ve hurt a lot more innocent people than he probably has. In moral standards, you really can’t tell me not to work with him when I’m friends with you. It’s hypocritical, extremely so.”

Jeff was quiet for a moment. “I wasn’t thinking with moral standards, I was thinking with personal standards,” he huffed.

“I know,” Jack said, a small frown on his face. “You usually are.”

Jeff made a frustrated sound. “I _meant_ that I got worried about you and I don’t want that fucker to hurt you again, okay? Can you just acknowledge that?”

Jack was silent for a minute, then practically melted a bit inside. “Oh. Oh my. I’m sorry, Jeff, of course. God, you were worrying about me, that’s just...” He gave a lazy, happy grin, and tilted his head. “Wow.”

“What’s with you?” Jeff asked suspiciously. “Are you making fun of me or something right now? Do you have _fun_ making me worry about you, you asshole?”

“Oh no, no no no, not at all,” Jack purred. “I just suddenly- oh wow, you’re _really_ cute.” He tugged Jeff into a hug, and nuzzled the other. “Sorry, I can’t help but want to grab you a little bit...”

Jeff went quiet again, allowing himself to be snuggled.  “Cute, huh?” He mumbled, slight annoyance in his tone. “Not my favorite way to be described, but I guess I’ll take it. You really think something like that?”

“Yeah,” Jack said blissfully. “I can barely keep myself from doing this most of the time. It’s like you’re teasing me or something, being this cute and then saying you get worried about me...”

Jeff pulled back slightly, eyeing Jack thoughtfully. “Sounds familiar.”

“...Oh really?” Jack said awkwardly, feeling a little shy suddenly now that he was being looked at, realising what he was actually doing.

“Yeah,” Jeff muttered, staring at Jack for a few moments before grabbing a fistful of the other’s hoodie, pulling him down to a more reachable height. 

“...What’re you doing,” Jack asked in suspicion.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Jeff snorted. “Should be obvious. You’re oblivious as fuck for being some super smart doctor.”

“If I knew I wouldn’t be asking,” Jack said irritably, laying his palm on Jeff’s arm, the one that he had gotten captured with. “I don’t know why you’d just pull me down and-”

Jeff leaned forward, silencing the other by pressing their lips together. Jack’s palm slid off of Jeff’s arm, and he seemed to relax and lean into the kiss for a moment.

Jeff pulled back again, and Jack’s face got a reddish tint once he figured out what happened.

“Oh. Okay. That’s what you were doing,” Jack breathed. “I see.”

“So?” Jeff questioned.

Jack tensed. “Huh? What? What is it?” He started to talk too much when he was nervous. It was a bad habit. 

Jeff snickered at his reaction. “ _So_ how did you feel about that?”

“Oh. How did I feel about- about the thing. Kissing you. Uh,” Jack stumbled over his words, biting his lip. He stared at his feet. “Well. It was nice... yes, that’s right, nice. Nice nice nice...” His face was too warm. _Damn._ _Relax, it was just a kiss, that’s all. Just a kiss. Oh god. You’re an adult, Jack. An adult who doesn’t even remember what it’s like to kiss anyone. Christ._

Jeff smirked. “ ‘Nice,’ huh?” He let a hand rest lightly on Jack’s chest. “You wanna try it again, then?”

Jack made a small embarrassing sound. “Ohhh, well I... do you want to?”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Jack. That’s why I did it the first time.”

Jack tilted his head, letting out a sigh. “Oh goodness... I can barely process this. I think you’d better just kiss me again, then.”

Jeff laughed, and then he kissed Jack again. 


	34. Comfortable

When Lora woke up, Winston was staring at her.

She squinted at him for a moment before pushing herself into a sitting position, rubbing at her eyes. "That's a rather creepy thing to wake up to, you know. At least by normal social standards, I hear," She muttered, yawning. "What time is it?"

Winston smirked, ignoring her comment on his weird behavior. "Seven in the morning."

Lora's eyes widened. "What? Why did I wake up at seven? I sleep in until noon these days- I think you messed up my sleep schedule somehow."

Winston grinned. "That's funny. I would've expected you, the one with the 'everything is work' perspective, to have been one to get up at the crack of dawn."

"I did a lot of work at night and still do," Lora said, shrugging. "Perhaps I woke up because I sensed someone was watching me sleep."

"You're cute when you're actually relaxed, what can I say?" Winston said dismissively.

"Flattery is no excuse, Winston," Lora muttered. "And aren't I usually relaxed?"

"Being relaxed and being unfazed by things is rather different, actually," Winston snorted.

Lora blinked. "Ah. Well... yes, I suppose so. Never thought about it that way."

"Anyway,” Winston went on, changing the subject. “I'm glad you woke up, I was thinking about something I wanted to ask you about."

"That sounds vague and possibly stressful," Lora groaned. "It's seven. Can't you wait until, hm, noon?"

"Ha, no chance." Winston slid an arm loosely around her shoulders, touchy-feely as always, although even more so as of late due to Lora's non-hateful reaction to him. "Look, I'll be direct with you. I need you to talk to Mitch."

Lora gave the other a highly disapproving look. "Why? Mitch rather deserves to be left alone now."

"I know," Winston made an irritated sound. "Of course he does, and that's what I intended, but... remember what happened the last time Mitch encountered a 'monster'?"

Lora groaned again, this time more dramatically, when she caught on. "You're worried he's going to post a badly written story about you on the internet?"

"Or possibly try to get the police involved," Winston sighed. "It isn't a huge problem, but the loss of my ability to move around freely and subtly in public would be rather inconvenient. Not to mention that I don't like the idea of being disliked and held as a monster by the people I'm trying to help."

Lora raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes I actually forget I'm spending quality time with a superhuman fanatic, but then you remind me again."

Winston tilted his head. "Hmm, not fond of my cause?"

"I don't think humans are meant to make themselves into gods."

"Do you think of other medicine that improves you as making yourself into a god?" Winston challenged.

"No. I just think complete perfection is unnatural," Lora countered, narrowing her eyes.

"If a loved one was dying and you had the chance to save them, would you deny that chance?"

Lora frowned. "I can't say, as I'm not in that position myself. I'm sure it's natural to, in your grief, do anything to save someone. But I can say this- death has always been inevitable, the one thing always certain to happen. If you take that away, everything becomes unpredictable."

Winston regarded her thoughtfully. "Not exactly. Once death becomes uncertain, life becomes certain in its place."

Lora's face blanked. "...Things would change. A lot. And what about overpopulation? With nobody dying, and children still being born, space would run out."

"Like you said, things will become unpredictable," Winston said excitedly. "Who's to say we couldn't find more space elsewhere?"

Lora stared at him, then grabbed a pillow to groan into. She was groaning way too often. "Jesus christ, Winston, remind me not to talk to you about your power fantasies again, you get scary. And when you start suggesting we look to space, or whatever, for more... space, it makes me feel like I'm in a cheesy sci-fi movie."

Winston made a 'hmph' sound. "Fine, fine, if you say so. I do like sci-fi, though. What about Mitch?"

"What about him? Talk to him yourself," Lora mumbled.

"You know I can't," Winston said in slight annoyance. "He'd probably call the police if he saw me anywhere near his house. Well, he's at least said something to his parents like we had a fight and he didn't want to see me. His mom would interrogate me at the front door. Overprotective parents. However, if a pretty girl showed up they'd let you in without a second thought, probably hoping that Mitch had finally gotten a girlfriend." Winston chuckled.

Lora rolled her eyes. "You really shouldn't be laughing at that. At least they try to have good intentions, even if a bit too much. Mine certainly didn't."

Winston shook his head. "Oh no, I wasn't. My parents weren't exactly friendly either- I always found Mitch's parents quite pleasant, even if they tend to pry for personal information. It made me wonder if I could figure out what it was like to have loving parents by observing them-" Winston gave a startled look, mouth opening slightly. "Uh, excuse me, I got off topic. I was laughing because I was imagining how they're going to fawn over you when you show up."

Lora looked at him thoughtfully, and leaned on his shoulder, hoping somehow she had conveyed a wordless 'I understand'. She'd say it out loud, but he was avoiding staying on the topic. She understood that too- it was difficult to talk about those kinds of things. To have the trust to. To not have the fear of being pitied or thought of as weak when speaking up. Maybe they'd both have the courage to talk about that and other such things some day.

Winston nuzzled her hair absently. "So... will you talk to Mitch? Just convince him not to spread dangerous information on me, that's all."

"Fine, but can I get a few more hours of sleep first?" Lora said, giving in.

"Oh yes, as long as you do it here," Winston said, smiling. "We should tangle our limbs up together more often, I find it quite pleasant."

"If by 'tangle our limbs up together' you mean cuddling, then yes, that's fine too," She sighed. "You're a bit of a heater, too, so I don't have to worry about getting cold, I guess..."

"Oh yes, I do produce a lot more heat than normal humans," Winston purred.

Lora narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "I feel like you're making a sexual innuendo."

"That it fits into something like that is completely coincidental," Winston said nonchalantly. "Although not necessarily inaccurate."

"Normally your flirting might be thought of as uncomfortable," Lora muttered. "But it's actually a bit relaxing. In a familiar and predictable sort of way."

Winston snorted. "Great, exactly what everyone wants to hear in response to flirting."

Lora snickered. "I don't believe for a minute that you're offended at all by that. Your 'flirting' is more amusing than pushy."

"Okay, maybe I'm a bit pleased that you're comfortable with it," Winston admitted. "And that it amuses you. Hopefully it amuses you in a way that doesn't include pity of any sort."

Lora smiled. "No, I just find your way of flirting funny because it feels light hearted and as the word suggests, fun. Don’t get any ideas, though, I like the platonic affection."

This time she was the one to tug them down onto the bed again.

Winston turned his head to look at Lora with an amused look, and she returned the look. "Now sleep," she said, closing her eyes.

"Fine, but I'll just be pretend sleeping," Winston said. "I happen to be an early bird."

"That's what they all say," Lora whispered back.

 


	35. Afternoon

Lora had woken in the afternoon, as she said she would, right on time. Winston was no longer at her side, and had left a note indicating he had 'something to take care of'. Whether he was simply going out for coffee on his own or if he was doing something more dangerous was unclear, irritatingly enough.

She found Eyeless Jack, both murderer of brothers and possible newfound ally, asleep on a chair in the dining room. He had his head was laying on the table, cushioned between his arms. He looked oddly peaceful for someone who had fallen asleep on such a hard, uncomfortable surface.

Lora stuck the note from Winston onto Jack's back.

He woke up with a jolt in instant reaction, almost falling off of his chair.

Lora raised an eyebrow at him.

Jack took a second to compose himself, straightening out his clothes. "Oh, did I...? Good morning- uh, is it morning?" Jack offered a sheepish grin, awkwardly snatching the note off of himself and giving it a quick look.

"Afternoon," Lora replied, both in greeting and correction, a small amused look on her face.

"Eh... What does 'something to take care of' mean?" Jack asked in reaction to the note with a slight frown, placing it on the table, then looking up at the other.

Lora snorted. "Hell if I know, could mean anything. No, he didn't share any secret information with me. I'd tell you if he did."

"Oh," Jack said, disappointment in his tone. "That's too bad. I was hoping to talk to him again, just for the sake of being a little _calmer_ about it this time."

Lora smiled. "He's a lot more sympathetic when you get him alone, so I encourage you to try that. I don't suppose you have any questions I might be able to answer, do you?"

"Well," Jack sighed. "I don't know. What exactly happens next?"

"I think Winston's interests are in trying to get your memories back," Lora said. "But if you're asking me, I wouldn't mind looking into what's going on with those other people."

"Other people?" Jack frowned.

"Whoever let that virus get out," Lora said, narrowing her eyes. "Whoever was working on that cure with you, I suspect that's almost certainly who did it. And even if they weren't the specific cause of the breakout, anyone who tries to create a 'humanity cure' shouldn't be allowed to get away with it."

Jack put his hands to his temples. "No. God no. If they could cause an outbreak of a virus and infect or kill almost everyone in that place, who knows what else they could do."

Lora eyed him carefully. "You were there when it happened. It was a massacre, wasn't it?"

"I couldn't remember any of it for a long time, but even when my memory was gone I still had these- these flashes of things sometimes, like when I thought Jeff was injured," Jack muttered, staring at the table. "I don't know, even with everything else gone I still feel like I'm part of it. Like I'm still there."

"I'm not sure you can ever really forget one once you see it," Lora said, hesitantly placing a hand on the other's shoulder. "But you might be able to help more people as some form of redemption for being part of it in the first place."

"I'm not sure I'll ever forgive myself," Jack said, suddenly giving her a panicked look. "It's all my fault, you know? If I had just kept my work to myself, if I hadn't been so trusting, then maybe-"

"Stop. Stop speaking," Lora said authoritatively, feeling a sudden agitation well up. "Of course you won't forgive yourself if you say things like that. Feel your guilt, then move on- you're no help to anyone when you're acting like that. You cannot change the past, but you can change the future. Do not weep for the dead when the living still need your help. Understand, doctor?"

Jack opened his mouth, closed it again, and nodded.

"Good," Lora sighed. "Now, I apologize for my brief discomposure, but it was necessary. I will not allow you to become useless by selfishly drowning yourself in guilt. I'm going out to have a talk with Mitch- you know, the one who had the emotional breakdown the other night."

"Oh yes, I know him, I mean _of course_ I do," Jack frowned. "He's very... memorable. Don't tell him I said that, please."

Lora smirked. "Hm, I can agree with you on that. While I'm gone I suggest you find something helpful to do with yourself. I won't tell you what to do, be creative and figure something out. It'd be nice to come back to something helpful."

"Yes ma'am," Jack said with an embarrassed look. "Super helpful, that's me."

"Don't call me that," Lora said with a scowl. "It's just Lora, nothing more, nothing less."

"Okay, okay," Jack said, holding up a his hands. "Right. Just as I'm Jack. I don't mind being called doctor every once in awhile, though, I must admit..." He noted thoughtfully.

"I'm sure you do," Lora said, moving to exit the room. "I'll see you later, Jack."

"Good luck on the talking thing," Jack called back, before taking on a more distressed tone. "Wait- 'I'm sure you do'? What does that mean? Was that sarcasm? Did you think I was suggesting something obscene?"

Lora rolled her eyes, and decided against answering. He could let his paranoia make him think whatever he wanted to think.

The other guest in the house and apparent psychopath was asleep in the living room. He was laying on the couch, although he had half fallen off it and his upper body was on the floor. He seemed to still manage to be asleep even like that. The fact that his eyes were also open mostly amused her rather than unsettled her.

If Lora was a bad person, she would've taken out her phone and gotten a picture of the ridiculous pose.

Lora just happened to do exactly that, although she would deny being a bad person for it. One should never miss out on possible later blackmail material, her father had once told her. It was one of the few pieces of advice from him she found rather useful. If she ever actually used it for blackmail, which wasn't very likely to happen, she would admit to possibly not being the best person, even if still not 'bad'- because thinking in black and white terms is so blinding. Being a neutral person sounds much better.

But really, when you think about it, who needs a reason to take stupid photos?

Certainly not Lora.


	36. Bittersweet

Mitch's parent's house was officially just about the cutest house Lora had ever seen. It had the stereotypical 'old couple' charm. Pastel colors, well tended to flower garden, idiotic lawn-ornaments, this place had it all. Lora had to grin a little bit at the sight.

A woman Lora assumed to be Mitch's mother was outside, giving various sorts of irritable looks and making frustrated noises at a small lawn mower.

Lora approached the woman, hoping the lawn mower irritation wouldn't affect the other's reaction to a guest. "Excuse me, are you Mitch's mother, by any chance?" Lora began.

"Yes, I'm Mrs. Haynes," The woman said, a slightly bewildered look on her face. She had large brown eyes, naturally messy looking hair, garden gloves on, and slightly dirtied jeans from- you guessed it, garden work. Lora decided that she was just as adorable as her house was, and that Mitch had the potential to be a lot more adorable with a mother like this- he just needed to learn how to properly use the constantly messy appearance to his advantage. "Why are you asking about my son?" Mrs. Haynes asked, tilting her head.

"I'm a friend," Lora said. "I wanted to talk to him. Is he okay?"

"Oh dear!" Mrs. Haynes exclaimed, touching one gloved hand to her cheek, getting dirt on it in the process. She didn't seem to mind or notice the dirt. "I'm so glad one of Mitch's friends came by, he seems a little down. And a it's cute girl!" She gave a little gasp. "Ooh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to blurt that out, but I'm just happy he has friends that are..."

"Friends that are cute girls?" Lora suggested in amusement. "It's fine, really, I don't mind." ‘Cute girl’ made her sound like she was still a teenager.

"Are you two...?" Mrs. Haynes looked as though she feared she was saying something scandalous.

"I'm a friend, Mrs. Haynes," Lora said coolly.

"Friends are always lovely too," Mitch's mother said, nodding. "I think he must be embarrassed to bring his friends here, it's only been that nice tall fellow Winston and now you to ever come to visit. Oh, but I do love meeting Mitch's friends, so it's such a shame! That's just how children are, I suppose, you know? Have to be independent some day," She sighed.

Lora shook her head, frowning. "I hope my daughter never gets like that, even if realistically most kids do."

"You have a daughter?" Mrs. Haynes looked absolutely delighted at this. "Oh, you must tell me _everything!_ "

Lora smiled brightly despite herself. "I’d love to, but what's going on with the lawn mower?"

"Oh, this dreadful old thing?" Mrs. Haynes said, putting her hands on her hips. "I don't know, it just stopped working! I don't know anything about how this damned thing works, excuse my swearing, dear, but I could just strangle it! My husband is out right now, and he's always the one who has to try to fix it."

"Hm, that would be difficult to do seeing it has no neck," Lora said. "Mind if I take a look at it?"

"Goodness, of course you can take a look at it!" Mrs. Haynes said. "Do you want any tools or anything at all? I can go fetch the toolbox."

"Possibly," Lora said, nodding. "Won't know until I look, but if you would go fetch it that'd be very kind. Thank you, Mrs. Haynes."

"Don't thank me, you're the one offering to help me with this devil-mower!" Mrs. Haynes exclaimed in surprise.

Lora had to use a lot of self control in order to not burst out laughing at the term 'devil-mower'.

***

When Mitch came out he found a weird sight.

Lora fixing the lawn mower and talking to his mother excitedly about children related things.

Mitch furrowed his brows, trying to figure out why exactly this was happening.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and the lawn mower seemed to be working better than ever. Specifically because of the fact that it wasn't making those weird and vaguely demonic noises it had made before. That was a relief.

Lora stood up, coughing a bit before shaking hands with Mrs. Haynes, business well accomplished. She then spotted Mitch and waved frantically, calling his name. Mitch assumed this meant he should go over there, but waited a moment just because he needed to admire how ridiculous the scene was.

Lora walked up and met him halfway into the small front yard, grinning, happier than usual. "Hello Mitch! I fixed a devil-mower."

Mitch eyed her for a moment, and then hugged her, surprisingly enough. "You're not dead," He muttered.

Lora blinked, then patted him on the back in amusement. "Of course not. Were you concerned for me?"

"Of course I was," Mitch snapped. "I left you alone with-"

Mrs. Haynes made a quiet 'aww' sound, although definitely not quiet enough not to be unnoticed.

Mitch released Lora immediately, grimacing almost as though he'd touched something unpleasant.

Lora narrowed her eyes at him in a silent 'Hey, I'm probably much cleaner than you are, Mr. Afraid-of-human-contact'. Maybe his mom had just made him uncomfortable, but Lora still owed him a glare or two anyway.

Mitch cleared his throat. "Uh. Can we go inside?" He said, giving his mother an irritated look.

Lora nodded. "Sure." She turned to look back at Mrs. Haynes. "It was nice talking with you, Grace," She called.

"Since when are you and my mother on first name basis?" Mitch asked, giving a shocked look.

"Since now," Lora retorted with a sniff. "Don't diss Grace, she's cool, and her messy hair is the best."

"Hey, I have messy hair too," Mitch protested, holding open the front door for the other.

"And you have so much more potential to be adorable than you know," Lora said matter-of-factly.

Mitch squinted at her before leading the way to his room. "You're weird."

"I know," Lora said, waving a hand dismissively.

Mitch let Lora in and shut the door, crossing his arms. He gave a weary look. "So, uh... what happened after I ran away?"

Lora examined Mitch's room briefly, taking in walls filled with movie and video game posters, dirty laundry and other such things lazily strewn across the floor, and a desk with a small clear place for a laptop. Fitting. "You first, Mitch. What have you been doing?"

Mitch hesitated for a moment. "To be honest I cried like a goddamn stupid baby a lot. And I ate an entire thing of ice cream, then threw it up- is that a bad sign?"

Lora raised an eyebrow. "Okay, you know what, I didn't need to know about the ice cream thing, but you'll probably be fine."

"I don't even like ice cream, but I fucking ate it anyway!" Mitch continued in distress. "Why? Why the hell did I do that?"

Lora frowned at him. "Is that a serious question?"

Mitch gave a pained look. "I don't know?"

Lora sighed. "Okay, Mitch, just don't think about it anymore. Just because characters in romance movies eat ice cream when they're sad doesn't mean you have to. We all have our own ways of dealing with pain, and obviously eating ice cream is not yours."

"Okay, I got it, that's enough of that," Mitch cringed, very possibly from bad ice cream memories. "Now can you tell me what the hell happened?"

"Right," Lora drummed her fingers on her leg, feeling a little uncomfortable trying to figure out how to explain anything. It would probably sound insane no matter how she said it. "I talked to Jack a little bit while Winston cooled off. He's a pretty nice guy, even offered to let me take out my anger on him. I declined. Winston thought I jumped on his head for personal reasons, but I insisted it was for your sake. He probably still doesn't believe me, since I'm pretty sure his agreement was only sarcastic. Jack's friend Jeff tried to stab me but Winston caught him. I was able to dodge, as you can see I don't have a stab wound- just a scrape. Jeff has a smile cut into his face and other things like that, but young people do weird things with their looks all the time so I decided not to judge him just on that. I did judge him a little on the whole unstable murderer bit, but it seems like that's going to be worked out sometime since he half-heartedly agreed to behave. He bit Winston a few times and I made a joke, so it was a fun experience as a whole."

Mitch stared at her with wide eyes, his mouth slightly open.

Lora looked at him, nodded, and decided to continue on. Shocked and confused silence was better than screaming as a reaction. "It was an awkward car ride because Winston had just threatened to kill Jeff if he ever hurt me before we left. The exact wording used was 'try to hurt'. I'm not sure what this Jeff’s personal life experiences are, but I do know that I was around and dealing with people just like him for years. Stabbing me takes more planned effort, but I won't go into that right now, those stories are for other times- and have embarrassing scars to go along with them. By that I mean literal scars, because I've gotten stabbed quite a few times.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, when we got back I talked to Winston alone. He was tired. I asked why he didn't tell us anything. He said it was more convenient to use us but he was lying, that didn't match up with everything else at all. I called him on his lie and he admitted he was making himself the bad guy so we could walk away from this mess of conspiracy bullshit and live normal lives. I think that's stupid and I told him not to make decisions for me, or you. Even though you do kind of deserve to have a normal life. I also told him that I was glad he had a reason like that, because it meant he cares about us. About you. He really didn't know you cared about him in return, though." Lora was quiet for a moment. "I think he misses you. I know you feel terrible, and what he did isn't somehow better because of the slightly good but shitty reasons behind it, but I think I just figured out something about you and why you were so upset. You said you didn't care about him being not quite as human, and I believe that. You said what you did care about was that he never told you what happened, and I don't believe that. When you were hunting Jack, the things Winston knew wouldn't actually had helped you find him at all. Winston had no more idea of where Jack was than you were, so that you'd complain for that reason is bullshit. You didn't care about him being inhuman. You can't logically care about not knowing what had happened in the past, at least not for the reasons you used. You cared because Winston is your friend, and you thought the huge secret he was keeping from you must have meant that everything else was a lie as well. His friendship with you, for example, aka the most important example. That every moment you spent together was some sort of fabrication made only to take advantage of you. It wasn't. If he didn't like you he would've left you a long time ago. You do know that a certain point, even if you two could sometimes get more work done together, he didn't necessarily _need_ you to search for Jack? You could argue that your website was what brought leads in, but he didn't need to be best pals with you to access that. If he was cold blooded enough to hurt you emotionally like this, but spend all this time with you and not care at all, he would've killed you by now." Lora sighed and tilted her head. "So it was real, Mitch. It was all real."

It took only a few seconds for Mitch to break down into a sobbing mess, face in his palms, after taking in all of Lora's speech. "Fucking christ, Lora," He choked. "I don't... I can't deal with this. I can't. I can't fucking do this."

Lora lightly pushed on Mitch's shoulder to make him sit down on his bed, sitting down beside him the next moment. Offering a logical and accurate explanation of everything was easy, but then dealing with the actual emotions in reaction was harder. It just made her sad to look at him being clearly overwhelmed. Emotional breakdowns seemed to be getting common lately, since she had given talks to more than one person in the last few days. "It's okay. Nobody is asking you to do anything."

Mitch glanced up at her, tears staining his cheeks. "Fuck, are you kidding me? All this fucking shit going on, all these messed up in the head people- I just- I just want to get away from it! But then on the other hand I don't? Like I feel like I need to do something, because everyone else has fucking superpowers or combat training or whatever fucking else, and I'm just _Mitch,_ who has a tantrum and runs away, leaving his friend in danger? Danger that isn't even fucking danger at all, apparently, because I, blinded by my shitty emotions, fail to understand that Winston is messing with me and is a shitty as fuck liar? Jesus fucking christ, this is not okay! None of it is okay!” He shook his head and bunched up his fists. “I'm weak and lazy and I hate scary things, I'm such a fucking coward, and even if I had the courage to try and help I'm not even helpful anyway! What have I ever done? I made a stupid fucking website with my shitty story and didn't do shit until someone offered to help me. And when Winston did help me, and he helped a whole fucking lot, I treated him like shit! Just because- just because what, I thought he _smiled_ too much? I should've been fucking thrilled he was actually ever nice to me, and took all of my fucking shit. Actually I was thrilled. I- I was so happy, fuck, but I was so ashamed of myself for being so horrible to him and everyone else. I always started shit with him because I thought maybe if I pissed him off enough he'd realise what a piece of shit I was and leave, because I didn't deserve for anyone to be nice to me. He never did leave. Even the other fucking night he didn't leave, I did. You didn't even see the way he looked at me when I said- when I said I hated him. The smile was fucking _forced._ I told him I fucking hate him and he just forced a fucking smile and told me that you were my friend. Who does that? Who fucking does that?" Mitch grabbed onto the sleeve of Lora's shirt, face only becoming more panicked. "You were right. You were right! I saw him do that. He's done some fucking shitty things too, but he looked right at me and his expression was fucking heartbroken. I saw that and fucking ignored it, even when I was acting like I was the good one. That was evil, Lora. Like literally evil. I'm a horrible person. What the fuck, Lora? Why am I alive?" His hands were shaking violently by the time he was finished spilling everything out. "Can you tell me why I'm alive?" He whispered, genuine and painful confusion in his voice.

For a moment Lora didn't even know what to say, he was just so broken sounding. Then she realised that he was just as broken as everyone else was. "No, Mitch," Lora said quietly. "I can't tell you why anyone is alive. There are no reasons. The only reasons are the ones you make for yourself. I think we all need a second chance. We've all fucked up. We feel horrible. Possibly equally horrible."

Mitch gave a choked laugh. "I could fucking bet money that I feel the most horrible, and I'm broke."

"You said Winston was your only friend," Lora said softly. "Have you considered that maybe you were Winston's only friend too, Mitch?"

"What?" Mitch whimpered. "What are you talking about? He's always talking to everyone, making friends everywhere, no matter where he goes... he doesn't need someone like me, nobody does. There are always plenty of replacements for me."

"I basically told Winston that I forgave him, and that I didn't hate him," Lora sighed. "You know what he said in response? He told me that nobody had ever spoken to him like that. Does that sound like something someone who has a lot of friends would say, Mitch?"

Mitch had something similar to a mix of fear and shock in his face. "No... no it doesn't..."

"It sounds like someone who spent most of their life in the hospital with a terminal disease," Lora said. "Someone who was possibly thought of as weak and was picked on as a child. Someone afraid of dying alone. Someone who, despite being unstable, probably just didn't want anyone to feel weak again, something at the center of all of this 'cure' madness. Big strong superhuman Winston might understand feeling weak and helpless more than you think, Mitch. If anyone needs you, I think it's him."

Mitch slumped, staring at his feet. "Christ," he said weakly. "I don't know what to do anymore."

Lora crossed her arms. "Listen. You can't just shut yourself away, Mitch. Life is full of risks, and if you never take them you aren't truly living. As long as we're all here we might as well make it worth it, you know? When you lose someone, you're suddenly alone, and that's painful. You shut people out so you won't have to be alone again, won't have to repeat the pain- but the thing you're doing is the cause of your misery in the first place. Loneliness is not healed by loneliness. If you're going to be in pain sometimes anyway, might as well have some joy to go along with it, right?"

Mitch pulled his lower half up onto his bed, laying his head across his knees, arms loosely wrapped around his legs. His tears seemed to have dried a little bit, he was either feeling less panicked or he just didn't have the energy to cry anymore. "I think I need to be alone for a while. But thank you, Lora. Really. I'm still feeling pretty horrible, but if you didn't visit me I think it would've been... worse somehow."

"Winston asked me to come," Lora said softly. "He said it was for one reason, but I'm pretty sure he wanted me to check on you, too. Well, he must've known I'd check on you, since that's just the kind of person I am."

Mitch took in a shaky breath. "I might talk to him... sometime. Don't tell him. Please? I'm not sure I have the courage to do it or not yet."

Lora looked at Mitch for a moment, feeling the frown pulling at her lips as much heavier than it really was. Then, suddenly the sides twitched up and she was smiling. "I won't tell him that you might talk to him, but I might tell him to talk to you instead."

Mitch pressed his face to his knees, quiet for a moment. "I could live with that."

It was hard to leave Mitch alone, even if it was what he wanted.

When Lora passed Mitch's mother outside, she made sure to tell her that she raised a wonderful child, and that he deserved more than he got sometimes.

Mrs. Haynes almost started crying when she heard that. She gave Lora a hug and thanked her for being friends with her son.

When Lora was going back to Winston's house, she realised that she was unsure if she was happy or sad about what had happened and how she had dealt with it.

It was almost bittersweet.

 


	37. Playing along

"I'm your new doctor."

The prophet looked up to her new 'doctor'. This doctor was clean woman with a kind smile.

The prophet decided she hated this doctor. It was childish, but she hated most of the people that worked for her captors.

Mostly she hated how perfect the woman looked.

The prophet was only a small burnt up crisp of a creature in this place. Not the confident, fear-inducing anonymous being she liked to be. Her protection was gone. She only had one voice here, not the strong many voices the others heard.

One voice. Small and ugly, just like the thing it belonged to. She was a husk. Something that should've been dead, but instead was something worse than that.

The voices were beautiful. The husk was nothing.

" _Where is the last doctor?_ " The husk hissed.

"He went on to work on other things," New doctor said, tone suggesting she was trying to reassure the husk. "My name is Gabriella Conway. Your official title is subject three, but is there something you'd prefer I call you?"

" _I am the husk,_ " The husk told the woman. " _In this place, I am the husk._ "

Dr. Conway blinked. "...Husk? Well, if that's what you'd prefer, I suppose that's fine."

The husk understood now. She understood what they were doing, sending this doctor here. They were trying something new, thought that maybe if they made someone show pity to the ugly creature it might make it cooperate with them.

Perhaps the husk would play along. " _What can this creature do for you, doctor?_ "

"I think a better question is what can I do for you? I am here to help you, not for you to help me."

" _People always want things,_ " The creature sniffed. " _You are not so different. You are a doctor, you know people, so you should know this to be true._ "

"Do people usually come here asking things of you?" Conway asked, tilting her head.

" _Do you like asking questions you already know the answers to, doctor?_ " The husk sneered.

"I know my own answers, but not your answers," Conway replied. “Two very different things.”

" _I see,_ " The husk said. " _And what if my answers do not lead you to what you want?_ "

"This _is_ what I want," Conway said, smiling. "To me, the journey is more important than the destination. Do you understand?"

" _I have my own version of understanding,_ " The creature said. " _But it is not yours, as you said._ "

Conway chuckled. "Using what I said just now to… okay, this will be good. Perhaps we can start to see our separate ways of understanding more clearly together. I am curious about you, and maybe you are curious of me? We could reach an agreement."

" _An agreement,_ " The husk muttered. " _It is far too early for you to ask for an agreement, as it will be tomorrow and the days after that._ "

"It's a good thing we'll be spending so much time together, then."

The husk and the doctor stared at each other silently for a few moments.

This woman was lucky that the husk was bored.

 


	38. Showing emotion

Lora decided to stop by at her apartment after going to see Mitch. She needed at least a small bit of time to be alone, as being around others and having to sort out emotional issues had taken a toll on her. Keeping a straight face and acting as though she was holding up fine was easy. She had no problem doing that. It became a slight issue when she had to do it for a while without taking any breaks.

Lora unlocked and entered the apartment, shutting the front door before leaning on it, sliding down to the floor. She stared blankly across the room for a few moments.

She clenched her fists at her sides, then banging one on the floor and letting out a frustrated sound.

It wasn't as though she wanted to feel irritated. She didn't _ask_ to be stressed out human emotions. Wasn't that Mitch's thing? No, Mitch was awkward with human contact, but not exactly with emotions, at least not to her level. Lora didn't mind human contact. That was part of the problem, she supposed. It hardly fazed her at all most of the time. A lot of things simply didn't faze her at all, in a way that wasn't really thought of as normal.

She was able to show emotion. She could relate. But only when she was really trying to do so. She didn't really want to show how burnt out and irritated she was over this to anyone else. She wanted them to think she was _understanding_ , _lovable_ \- other words like that, which didn't always hold meaning to her. She really did have to try with it, to make sure she didn't suddenly say something like 'your feelings are illogical' when someone was crying in front of her. Well, she at least tried to be sympathetic while still explaining why something was illogical.

She understood things. She really did. She had feelings and she saw the feelings of others as real and respectable. She just had to try a bit to make sure others knew that. They couldn't just know what she felt unless she said it out loud, no matter how much she wished people could just know without her having to speak up.

It was difficult to express yourself at times. Saying things like 'we're friends' or 'I don't hate you', which weren't even that impressive to people who were… not like her, were more difficult for her to spit out. Even though she was sure it must have seen like she wasn't having any difficulties, it took a certain amount of willpower.

She did feel fondness for others. Saying so out loud seemed almost scary. Words were for speaking reasonable things, and feelings seemed somewhat less reasonable. Feelings were confusing and didn't always fit well with her words, which were usually certain and precise. Turning feelings into words was difficult.

She wasn't sure why she had such a hard time with showing emotion. Perhaps it was because her father had always told her that showing emotion was like showing weakness. She disagreed with that, of course, but she had believed him early on in her life. Sometimes words stick, and can be the most damaging things. Mental wounds can last longer than physical ones.

At least the people she had been dealing with lately were slightly self-absorbed and didn't pay her own feelings as much mind. Else they might notice something was off. They did ask things, but any answers were accepted easily. These people were happy enough with anything non-negative they could get in this situation, which was why everything was easier to effect, Lora felt. It was why everyone was a little less at each other's throats. That was, of course, an advantage of sorts for her.

When it came to family Lora was different, though. She wasn't completely sure why. Perhaps because it seemed like they already knew that she loved them more than anything, and that speaking it became so much easier after that. They being her daughter and late brother. Her father had never been put into the 'family' category. Her family might have been connected to her by blood, but she still chose them herself. Her father was never a choice, just something that was inescapable.

 _Brother._ That word felt a little heavy now. They hadn't shared the same mother, and that had allowed him to live a different life. Different, yet they shared things with each other, that had always been clear. They had both thought of themselves as being the only child in their 'family'. Finding each other had been so wonderful. Nobody had ever understood Lora like he had. They had their differences, so many differences, but they had still just…

Lora found herself starting to choke up, and despite trying to avoid it the tears still ran down her face. She let them come, telling herself that if she did she'd be able to regain composure again and get back to being useful in some way.

She rubbed the tears from her eyes, thinking about Jack now. She couldn't be angry at an innocent man. Or even an innocent creature. Some small part of her wanted to be angry at him, angry at something- and she _was_ angry, she was angry at the ones who had fucked up the cure. The cure was a stupid idea in the first place, but stupidity and cruelty weren't the same things. Jack didn't act like a monster, he was just another broken man. She couldn't pin blame on him even if she wanted to, which she mostly didn't. The small part of her that did want to be angry was just looking for someone to blame. She had something to blame, but perhaps that she couldn't currently reach what she was blaming was what was causing the problem.

Blaming Jack was irrational, but he was something she could get to. Who knows how long it might take to get to the organization? For some people lashing out at things even when it didn't make enough sense was just easiest, as they had to take their stress out on something. For Lora, she was certain it wasn't that simple, as she would never be satisfied with a petty revenge on someone more or less innocent.

Nothing was ever going to be easy, though. True monsters were hard to find. Even the things that seem like monsters can sometimes turn out to be something else. That didn't mean they were always 'good' but still not pure evil or some bullshit like that. Usually just sad, miserable unlovable people in the end. There was nothing more pitiful than that.

A piece of a memory flashed in Lora's mind. Her father standing tall in front of her, still spitting out venomous words even in the end. Speed forward a few moments and he's on the floor, never to move again. He's not tall anymore, not the intimidating man she thought he had been. Was he always that small? He looked like he had stopped eating at some point. She didn't know why she didn't see it before. He no longer scared her. She no longer even felt that deep anger for him. Instead when she saw him crumpled and lifeless at her feet, she felt something else. It wasn't sadness, no. She felt… disappointment. Self-disgust. A bit of regret.

In the end, she had been just as horrible as he had been. He was really just a sad and sick man, a man who had caused his own _child_ to hate him. If that wasn't sad she didn't know what was. Even if he thought he was happy like that, he probably just had never known any proper sort of happiness. He couldn't feel sadness for himself, so she had to feel it for him- just so _someone_ would. Not sadness for his death, but sadness for his life.

Which meant she wasn't horrible, as that wasn't what he had been.

What it really made her was pitiful.

After that she could never completely hate people. She could hate their actions, but the person behind those horrible things was just another sad, sick, pitiful person. Revenge was to be avoided. All she tried to do now she make sure more people weren't hurt by bad actions, and she tried to avoid violent methods as much as she could.

Lora frowned and slapped herself lightly, trying to take her mind off of those things. The past couldn't be changed. She could learn from it, but dwelling on it unnecessarily would not help anyone. She had already said that to Jack earlier. If she couldn't listen to her own lectures she certainly couldn't give them to others.

She growled, grabbing her phone in order to send a text message to Winston, informing him about her 'success' with Mitch. It should've been done earlier, really, but she'd get it over with now.

She stuck the phone in her pocket and stood up, determined not to mope too long. That had been enough as far as she was concerned. Dealing with the emotions of others could be draining, but getting lost in her own emotions could be a nightmare. She wanted to do some kind of work sometime soon, perhaps avoid emotional issues for a while. There was hardly much to do in the apartment, though, and it didn't really help make her less prone to suddenly being sniffly by being in it. She'd be out of it soon enough.

For the bit of time she had left to be in it she decided to make herself some tea.

That, and she was going to make sure to get her gun, which had been stowed away in the apartment and left alone for a long time now.

Somehow she felt that she might need it eventually if she kept working with her current teammates.


	39. Company

" _You say you aren't interested in my knowledge of the future,_ " The husk spoke suddenly. " _Do your employers approve of that lack of interest?_ "

Dr. Conway glanced up from her notebook, something which she was always scribbling things into with her amusingly messy handwriting. She first had a curious expression, then smirked when the husk finished. "I couldn't say if they approve, as they aren't aware of my intentions in the slightest."

The husk found the answer slightly irritating. " _That sounds dangerous._ "

"I don't see it that way," Conway chuckled, seemingly unconcerned. "It isn't as though the last person to study you was getting too much out of you. In fact, it's almost just for show that they even put a researcher in here, wouldn't you say? All very _silly._ "

The husk nodded slowly. " _Yes. It is that creature who does all the work. Keeps me here in this prison when I am not speaking through dreams, is able to sometimes cause me to let my guard down and get information from my mind…_ "

"Not fond of subject two, I take it?" Conway said jokingly.

The husk let out a growly sigh. " _Obviously not._ "

"I do wish I could study him," Conway said wistfully. "But alas, I doubt I will get that chance." She smiled. "I get the feeling you're much better company than him, though. Strong silent type, that fellow, not good for lengthy chats... you're so much prettier than he is, too."

The husk tensed, anger flaring up over the comment on her appearance. " _That isn't amusing in the slightest,_ " she hissed.

Conway blinked. "Ah, did I say something wrong?"

The husk observed Dr. Gabriella Conway. She had been coming here for a few days, and she'd been getting less 'perfect' every time she showed up for a session. The first time she had been wearing contacts, a lab coat and button up shirt, and her hair had been tied back. Now she instead had glasses on, a sweater, and her hair was down- hair which was wavy, blonde, and always getting in the doctor's face, not that said doctor seemed to mind very much.

Conway was probably trying to get the creature more relaxed by acting more relaxed herself. Oddly enough it wasn't the worst tactic. This woman was much easier to be around than the other stiff employees the husk had encountered.

The fact that Conway was more concerned with her own agenda was also somehow something which made the creature less tense at times. Everyone else ran right back to their masters with everything and didn't seem to have any thoughts of their own. Conway's self-interested and unafraid mindset was refreshing and slightly respectable in this situation, even if vaguely worrying.

The husk saw that the doctor didn't seem to know what had insulted the creature, and felt slightly relieved. At least she knew that this woman wasn't insulting her outright, and perhaps the comment was mostly harmless. Conway was usually respectful in their talks, and that wasn't something the husk wanted to lose, selfishly enough. The husk didn't plan on giving out any details of her visions of the future, and Conway didn't seem to mind that. She just wanted to talk, to interact with the thing she was studying, satisfied enough with just that. The husk hadn't been treated like a person in this ugly form before. Having someone just happy with being around her was… different.

" _Forget it. If you did not intend harm I will not take it as such,_ " The husk said, shaking her head.

Conway grinned. "That's a relief. I would hate to offend you."

And as she said it, the husk believed her words.

It was difficult. The husk couldn't completely understand that her doctor was satisfied just speaking like this, and felt like there must be more to it, but at the same time she wanted to accept it and continue on like this. She had even started looking forward to having the doctor visit her, even if they began to argue over something. The powerful prophet and her many voices would not have felt this way- the voices did not need anyone. The husk, however, ugly and alone, needed this. Even if it was trickery she needed it. Loneliness truly did strange things to people.

The husk cradled her head in her spindly hands, silent for a few moments. She looked up again, faint glowing eyes on her doctor. " _Gabriella?_ "

Conway blinked, smiling at the use of her first name. "Hm?"

" _Are you a medical doctor as well as a 'researcher'?_ " The husk asked carefully.

The doctor grinned, very pleased with this question. "Ooh, that's the first time you've asked me such a personal question. One that isn't about my self-serving intentions, I mean."

The husk growled. " _I am aware of this, and if you continue to mock me for it instead of answering the question I will not ask any again._ "

"Whoa, whoa, all right, I gotcha," Conway said, holding up her hands in defense. "Yes, I am trained as a medical doctor- among other things."

The husk made a gesture to encourage Conway to go on.

Conway tilted her head thoughtfully. "You want to hear more? Well, let’s just say this- knowledge is to me as candy is to a child. I simply can't help myself with it."

The husk scoffed at the comparison. " _Hm. And children get sick when they eat too much candy._ "

Conway grinned mischievously. "That has yet to happen to me in relation to knowledge. Perhaps that wasn't the best comparison, though."

" _It could also be an accurate comparison,_ " The husk muttered. " _Knowledge can be dangerous, both as a weapon and a weakness. I am an example of that._ "

Conway smiled vaguely. "Very true, my friend, very true!"

It was quiet again for a few minutes, excluding Conway's incessant scribbling in her notebook.

Conway eyed the husk again, breaking the silence. "So, why did you ask if I was a medical doctor? Need medical attention?" She asked, amusement in her voice.

The husk chuckled darkly. " _Hardly. It's far too late for that._ " She tried to figure out if she should tell the other the truth of not, but then sighed and gave in. " _I was… apparently a nurse when I was human. I just felt like asking due to that, I suppose. Finding things to relate to my old life is something I've found myself doing unconsciously as of late._ "

Conway's eyes lit up. "You have memories of your old life? Those who are infected forget their human past, or so I thought."

The husk flinched at the word 'infected'. " _I do not have any memories, I was told-_ " she snapped her mouth shut when she realized what she was saying.

Conway stared at her silently, expression not definable. She then smiled brightly, laughing. "You should've seen the look on your face! Relax, like I said… I'm not interested in all of the drama that everyone else seems wrapped up in."

The husk tilted her head. The look on her face? " _...I wasn't aware I had expressions that were understandable._ "

Conway stood up from her chair, notebook in hand. It was a little odd seeing a lone chair in the white void, but this void was different than the husk's own, controlled by the one known as 'subject two' instead. The husk wondered how Conway managed to get that creature to even give her a chair when she already had that notebook she was allowed to bring with her. Was subject two actually bribable? Whatever the doctor did, it was impressive.

"I look at things a little more closely than other people do," Conway said, smirking. "It's part of my job."

" _I suppose it is,_ " The husk said, still slightly skeptical.

"Of course. So, it's about time for me to go," Conway said. "I'll be back tomorrow, of course. You know, perhaps we should have more than one session a day."

The husk was surprised at this suggestion, even though she knew the doctor was interested in her, she didn't expect her to make room in her schedule just to spend more time with the creature. "... _If that is what you wish._ "

"Oh yes, very much so," Conway purred. "I'll have to get that arranged, then."

The husk nodded almost awkwardly.

Conway took a step forward, startling the husk. She hadn't realized how close the woman had been. Strange.

The doctor reached out a hand and brushed it across the husk's brittle shoulder, a rather curious look on her face.

The husk leaned away from the touch carefully, as though to avoid offending the doctor. " _Doctor?_ "

"Ah- oops. I apologize, I did that on impulse," Conway said, snapping back to attention and smiling again. "Goodnight, my friend." She nodded, and began to fade.

The husk eyed the place the doctor had stood thoughtfully, then slumped back down into a sitting position.

She didn't remember the last time anyone had ever touched her.

It was strange that she now instantly started to miss something she had no memory of having before now.


	40. You and your stupid face

Jack crouched hesitantly next to his sleeping friend. He couldn't begin to guess how Jeff ended up half off the couch, or how he hadn't woken up due to discomfort yet.

He allowed himself a small smile, and lightly touched a few strands of Jeff's hair. It was funny how he kept doing that when Jeff wasn't paying attention, it was becoming a habit now. Jack was far too much of a nervous person to do much else, except when he had his moments of adoration- since then he more or less couldn't help himself. This was not one of those moments, Jack was feeling much more timid now.

Jack looked over his friend, his gaze briefly stopping at the other's mouth. He pulled his hand away from the other's hair, feeling his face heat and a small frown tugging at his lips. He shook his head, not quite sure what to think about what had happened the other night. There had been kissing, there had been Jack feeling so embarrassed he might pass out- and then there had been a confused silence of sorts when it stopped.

It had seemed like Jeff had wanted to continue with whatever the hell they were doing, but Jack had been uncertain. He still was.

His heart had gone crazy, that was for sure, and there had been some ridiculous and fluttery feeling in his stomach.

It was terrible and wonderful at the same time, that kind of feeling.

He didn't know if he could handle those kinds of feelings. Everything was already so complicated lately, and this was just making it worse.

It felt stupid, him having these kinds of confusing feelings toward someone who he wasn't sure returned them.

Yes, that was the real problem. In all honesty if given the chance to be that close to Jeff again he'd likely say 'fuck it' to everything else like a complete idiot and go along with it, but only if he knew Jeff had something similar going on.

But he didn't know that.

He knew Jeff felt feelings of companionship towards him, knew Jeff missed and got worried over him.

He knew Jeff had a sexual attraction to him.

How much did that mean? It's natural with the situation that they'd both have their loneliness and their... frustrations. Sexual attraction and what Jack felt weren't exactly the same thing. They could be put together, sure, but also they could stand on their own.

What he felt, what was it exactly? Could he even dare to say something like 'romantic feelings'? He wasn't sure he wanted a label for it. It was a soft, new, and delicate kind of feeling. A feeling you had to be careful with, as to let it develop properly or it might be broken. He'd rather avoid and try to get rid of it early on if he was going to be shot down.

Jeff was very different from Jack sometimes. Jack didn't know how Jeff would respond to something like this, as he seemed much more casual and straightforward with things. Things that were harder for Jack to be like that with.

Jack didn't think there was anything wrong with people engaging in more casual sexual pursuits, as long as it was respectful enough, but he probably wouldn't be able to handle that kind of thing. He'd get hurt, no doubt. Things simply affected him too much, and he took everything to heart so easily. If all Jeff was interested in was using him to relieve frustration, well... Jack couldn't be the one to do that.

Jack didn't want to be hurt anymore.

His chest ached, and he gave his sleeping friend another quick glance. That didn't help, and he quickly looked away again, deciding to draw himself up and move away for a while.

The other night Jack had just made up a terrible excuse so he could avoid the situation. He had gotten scared. He didn't know what Jeff was thinking or wanted from him. 'I'm tired,' Jack had said at the time, voice small and meek. He had hidden himself in the bathroom for a while, so he could feel terrible about things away from any prying eyes. When he came back out, not feeling any less miserable, he had fallen asleep at the table accidentally- as he had worn himself out.

Jack moved to stare out the window.

The sky was getting darker, and was now shades of pink and violet. It was very nice, and he found himself letting out an unknowingly held in breath when seeing it. This place had a nice view of the open uninterrupted sky, which Jack decided he enjoyed quite a bit. He was always hiding from the sight of society, but out here he was able to look out without fear. The nearest neighbors were farther off, so there wasn't as much of a risk of being seen by any unsuspecting humans. It wasn't like the distance of this house was really so far from the more populated city area, so it was surprising there weren't more buildings around. However, it really was a luxury he didn't want to question too much.

He wondered when the people who had led him here would return. Winston had left early, and then Lora had spoken with him, but she had gone soon after that as well. He had millions of questions for the both of them, and it frustrated him.

He was at the center of everything, and yet he still felt rather clueless. And he'd only so recently gained people to talk to, but they all seemed to be out of his reach.

He wished he could talk to Jeff, but he was stressed over things with him as well.

Really Jack wanted to talk to someone who just wasn't part of any of this. Jeff was kind of like that for him sometimes. He wanted for someone to just see and listen to him without some kind of previous opinion of him.

Jack was still for a moment before he gave a scowl. Since when had he gotten this mopey about things? There were serious matters to be taken care of, sure, but he could certainly have a break every once in awhile. He was in a house. A real one. Who knows how long he'd have this chance? He really should be using it properly.

***

Jeff woke up to the smell of something buttery, and felt a presence near his feet.

He stared at the ceiling groggily for a moment before attempting to lean up, falling backwards again, then pulling his legs off of the couch instead. He scrambled up into a standing position.

Jack was sitting cross legged on the couch, a bowl of popcorn in his lap. He smiled at Jeff. "Hi."

Jeff eyed Jack for a second in uncertainty. That was a pleasant smile. He'd been afraid of how Jack would act with him after what happened, but he looked okay. Jeff hoped he was okay. "Yeah, right, hi. What're you doing?"

"Well… I was going to watch some movies," Jack said, chuckling. "I haven't in quite awhile, you know? I guess I thought it would be fun. But, ah... I don't really recognize most of the ones Winston owns," He said sheepishly, gesturing to a box of dvds he had dug up from Winston's stuff.

Jeff was quiet for a moment before walking over to the box, sorting through them for a moment. He hadn't watched a movie in a long time either, and he definitely hadn't watched a movie with someone else in a long time. "Most of these are horror movies," Jeff concluded with a grin. "I'm good with this stuff, so you're lucky. I'll show you the slightly less crappy ones first."

Jack bit his lip for a moment, then smiled brightly. "You're going to stay and watch with me, then?"

Jeff froze for a second, feeling something odd in his chest. "Of course I am," he muttered, flopping down on the couch beside his friend. "You might get scared or something cliche like that."

Jack gave him an amused smile. "I doubt that, but I could pretend to be scared if you want."

Jeff stared at the other for a moment in confusion.

Stupid smile. Stupid voice. Stupid stupid stupid.

What was wrong with him? What was this person doing to him? Why did he feel weird when looking at his stupid face?

Jeff scowled at Jack.

Jack tilted his head. "Why are you giving me that look?"

"You're messing with me somehow," Jeff muttered. "You and your stupid face."

Jack looked at him blankly, before giving a very miserable look. "Oh…"

 _Shit,_ Jeff thought in a sudden uncomfortable panic, _No, that's not what I meant! I made him feel bad!_

"I'm joking," Jeff said quickly. "Jeez. You look like a kicked puppy now."

Jack was silent for a moment before laughing. "Did I look like I was taking it that seriously? I'm fine, oh my god. 'You and your stupid face'- that's not insulting, Jeff, it's funny! Who even says that sort of thing?"

Oh. Well then. Jeff looked down in embarrassment. Then he cursed himself for being embarrassed. He was Jeff, he wasn't supposed to get _embarrassed_. God.

Jack placed a hand on Jeff's shoulder. "Hey. Relax. Let's just relax for a while, you and me. Sound good?"

Jeff looked up at the other, feeling a warmth again. "Yeah. Sounds good. You know you were the one who was all tense yesterday, right? What's up with you?"

Jack grinned. "Well, it seems I'm not 'all tense' at the moment. You should take advantage of that and show me the wonders of horror movies. We've got to eat this popcorn while it's still warm, too."


	41. Hotel

Winston tilted his head back to look up at the tall building. He tugged at his scarf a bit, nodded to himself, and adjusted his view back to street level again. He had the right place. It had been a pain digging this up all on his own, but nothing he couldn't handle. They had been more lazy as time went on with him ignoring them, which definitely lowered the difficulty as well.

He shoved his hands in his coat pockets, pushing the door of the hotel open with his shoulder.

He surveyed the lobby for a moment before his eyes rested on the desk and the timid mouse-like man who stood behind it, looking as though he'd run at the smallest excuse.

 _Lucky,_ Winston thought cheerfully. _That'll make this easier for now, at least._

So. What did he know? This man wasn't used to this job. He didn't know all the ropes yet. If he was at the front desk, it was likely everyone else was busy with something. What would they be busy with? Winston glanced around again, this time trying to look more closely. Empty. It wasn't just the staff members who were busy. An event, then. Something private, maybe, since he didn't remember seeing anything on the website about this. An unattended suitcase seemed to have been left in the room. He'll use that.

Winston grabbed the suitcase, put a distressed look on his face, and ran to the desk. He held up the suitcase as though it was something very meaningful, waving it about. "This is an emergency!" He said urgently, giving the man behind the desk accusing eyes.

The employee froze in terror, eyes becoming large. "Ex-excuse me? What's going on, who are you-"

"Don't you 'what's going on' me! You know exactly what's going on!" Winston exclaimed.

"Of course I do!" The other agreed quickly, even though he very clearly did not know what was going on at all. "It's an emergency!" He said, nodding and repeating Winston's words back at him as to appear more knowledgeable on the subject.

"I know that!" Winston snapped. "To think that the important guest we have is missing this! They need it there right now too, you know? This is outrageous. Everyone else is busy, and I'm on my break!"

The man shrank back in fear. "Well I-"

"You! You'll have to deal with this. If anyone knew this was gone they'd kill you," Winston warned, pressuring the man further. "If you don't get it back in time you could lose your job. Not to mention me! I could lose my job too, and I'm not even working right now!" Winston sputtered. "Do you think that's fair with what we go through, huh? No, I didn't think so! Now, for gods sake, take this thing and go! I'll cover for you at the desk. Here." He shoved the suitcase at the man without listening for his consent. "Take the damn thing and run, quick! You're running out of time."

The employee blinked and looked around in shock. "But I- wait we-"

"We don't have time for this! You want to get home in time, right?"

"Yes! I have to clean my apartment before my mother gets there! If I don't she'll kill me!" The man said, determination finally coming across his face along with a smidgen of fear at the idea of his mother. He held the suitcase, nodded, and ran off.

Winston watched him leave, and gave a small sigh. Did that poor man even know where he was going? He hoped the guy wouldn't really get fired for going off on a wild goose chase like that, but maybe he should get a job better fitted to him anyway. Hopefully one his mother wouldn't disapprove of, as that sounded like it was a deciding factor in most things he did.

Winston shrugged, and made his way around the desk. He didn't want to spend too much time messing around here, who knows when they'd figure out mousey boy wasn't here anymore. He clicked through a few records on the computer, trying to figure out which room number he'd be headed to. Once he found it, he got the right keycard from the keycard machine and left for the elevator.

 _Charlotte Conway._ Pretty name. Was it a real name, or a fake one?

He watched the numbers above the elevator light up, and finally it hit his floor, doors sweeping open welcomingly. It was empty.

Winston stepped inside, hit the button for the fourth floor, and leaned back to wait.

There was no music to accompany the ride, and Winston couldn't decide if he was relieved or disappointed by that.

He took out his phone and opened his email, checking for the information he'd sent himself before he left, looking through it again.

It was a shame he couldn't do this sooner, and now was his only chance. Too late and it would be bad for him as well. And afterwards, he'd only have so much time to move before they'd get suspicious of the absence. The timing had to be just so.

Oh well. He'd make this work.

The elevator chimed as the doors opened again, revealing the fourth floor. Winston spared a moment to admire the hallway, impressed this type was placed in a hotel like this rather than a more subtle cheap one. Better security, maybe. Which made him think of how it was a little odd how unguarded it was right now- he could guess that was for the event, but what kind of event takes away all the security and leaves only one measly inexperienced desk babysitter?

Winston blinked, and stepped out of the elevator. Was this a trap? He thought about it for a moment. It could be, but that seemed like a bit of an overkill. If it wasn't a trap, something else was going on. It was quiet, not panicky. If something dangerous was happening, someone was keeping strict control over it. And it wasn't happening near him. _Event, huh?_

Winston sighed. He was over thinking things. He had something to do, and if something actually was going on it didn't seem to be giving him any problems. If anything it was making things easier for him.

Winston took off his scarf and stuffed it in his coat pocket. Scarves could count as a bit of a danger hazard, and it was rather warm inside the building.

He couldn't even see a maid around. This was worrying him. He sniffed and ignored his concern again.

He walked along the corridor until he found the right room number, and frowned for a moment before swiping the keycard through a slot

He put his ear to the door and listened for a moment. Faint breathing, and things being moved. He turned the handle and pushed open the door carefully, then closing it again behind him.

At the sound of the door, he was noticed.

There was a woman standing in front of a bed, and a case on top of the bed, one she had probably been filling. His eyes first landed on the case- a gun case. Of course. Then the woman. Almost his height, boyishly short blond hair and equally boyish looks, and she was pulling a gun out from the back of her pants.

Ah yes. That's definitely the one, then.

Winston walked forward, then stopped when she pointed the firearm at him and gave him a warning look.

"Don't," She said quietly.

Winston put his hands up and flashed a smile. "Ms. Charlotte Conway, isn't it? I do hope I have the right place."

Charlotte said nothing.

"Hm. I see how it is, not talking to me then," Winston said with a chuckle. "You know it's useless pointing that thing at me, right?"

Charlotte nodded, then slowly shifted the gun's positioning up to be pointed her own head.

Winston's eyes widened. _Shit. Shit shit shit. Of course._

"It wasn't for you," Charlotte said grimly. "You'd better pray they give you a nice cage when I'm gone, monster boy."

"I'm not the praying type," Winston replied dryly.

As soon as the bullet went through her brain they'd know to come find him. Which meant finding Jack. If their spy died they'd know he'd finally found Jack, and swoop in to steal his find. They'd been watching him for a long time, expecting he'd find what they were all looking for first. And they were right. _Lazy fuckers, relying on me to do all the work for all this time. Lazy, but smart. Although I very much do not enjoy being used as bait._

Winston stared at her blankly, trying not to twitch. _Should've expected this._

Wait. His eyes flicked over to her hands. They were shaking. Just a bit.

He smiled inwardly. "Are you afraid to die?" He said slowly.

She said nothing.

 _If you were going to do it you would've done it already,_ Winston thought. _Looks like someone wasn't brainwashed well enough, or maybe thought it'd never come to this._

"Will they give you a funeral?" Winston asked curiously. "Do spies get to have those? Or did you lose your family when you let yourself be brainwashed and used for suicide missions? Do they think you're already dead- is that what happens with this sort of thing? How long has it been since you've seen anyone you love? Do you think they still love you, or have they forgotten? Did you ever have anyone who loved you in the first place?"

She twitched.

"Being a spy for a shady group seems a little disgusting, doesn't it? Do they think you're disgusting? Do you find yourself disgusting for doing this? Do you hate yourself? Have you ever been important?"

She looked stiff now.

"Has anyone ever said even a tiny 'thank you' or a 'good job' for what you've done? What you've sacrificed? What does a sacrifice mean if it doesn't even seem to affect anyone?"

"Stop," Charlotte muttered.

"Do you think anyone will even remember your name when you're gone, Charlotte?" Winston asked.

She doesn't move.

"Actually, I can give you the answer to that, you don't even have to think about it. Nobody will remember your name."

" _Shut the fuck up!_ " The woman snapped, instinctively pointing the gun at him again in rage.

 _Ah. What an idiot. Perfect,_ Winston thought in delight.

The realization of the mistake came across her face a second before Winston rammed into her. He winced, if only in a brief shock, as her gun went off and he felt a few bullets go into him. Would he have to pull those out later, or would his system simply push them out by itself? He hadn't exactly been successfully shot before, so he wasn't sure how that would go.

They struggled for a moment. The spy did everything from throwing punches to hair pulling and attempts to kick him in the crotch. He imagined if he had met her in a different area she would've been much more difficult to catch. Built more for agility than brute strength.

She probably wasn't meant to fight him as much as stay out of his sight- and then apparently kill herself if necessary. He vaguely wondered why someone would choose that kind of job for themselves, or if this person even did choose it.

He finally managed to knock the woman's head on the floor a few times, hoping she wouldn't be too damaged from that, and she was out.

He leaned back, resting for a moment. A bullet fell in front of him, and it took him a moment to realize it had fallen from his forehead.

He was still for a moment, reaching a hand up to feel the now rapidly healing hole in his head. _Oh. I see._

It was likely this woman was much better with things she could shoot.

If he wasn't like he was, he would've been dead already.

Winston sighed, pulling a syringe from his coat pocket. He didn't want her waking up anytime soon, so this was... necessary. It wasn't as though he had to drug people all the time, so he really hoped it didn't have too bad of an effect, especially since he had already knocked her out. _Don't die, for gods sake, don't die. I need you alive._

He injected her with the drug, then grasped her and tugged her up over his left shoulder.

He stood up, carrying the extra weight of the woman with him easily enough.

He briefly stopped again to inspect her case of weaponry. Did he want this? Might be useful. He hummed thoughtfully, then shut the case. He looked at the handgun the spy had been carrying, turned the safety on, and wedged the in the back of his pants- he was relieved he had on a knee length coat which was big enough to conceal something like that, and that he was able to stuff a few things in the larger pockets and not have to bring a bag.

He grabbed the gun case with his free hand and made to exit the room, briefly setting the case down again to open the door again. He didn't have the time to search the rest of the room, and as far as he could tell from the look he got of it, it didn't have much else in it. If there had been a computer he would've been _thrilled_ , but the spy probably had a disposable phone to make calls from only.

Someone who'd been told to shoot themselves probably didn't know as much important information.

 _Or,_ Winston thought, _maybe it meant she knew more, and had more information to die out with her?_ Perhaps death was an avoidance of possible interrogation.

The thought certainly made him wonder a bit. The information gathering possibilities became a bit wider with that.

He set down the case to press the button that called the elevator. When it arrived he stepped in, yet again setting down the case to press more buttons. He was slightly regretting bringing the case.

He waited a moment before the elevator suddenly stopped at the second floor. Winston eyed the doors curiously.

They opened to reveal the mousy man from earlier. Mouse's eyes widened, and his brows pulled together.

Winston frowned and struggled with the case, trying to put it down and press a button to close the elevator doors forcefully. Why did he even pick the case up again, anyway?

Mousy sputtered and pushed into the elevator, doors shutting behind him.

Winston just dropped the gun case in annoyance, and it made a clatter when it fell.

The small now less timid and more angry appearing man looked up at him with a very accusing look. "You! You lied to me- when I finally found the event hall the security guards at the front wouldn't even let me in, and said the suitcase you gave me didn't have anything to do with it!" he seethed, clenching his fists and flushing in embarrassment of his mixup.

Winston smirked, more than amused by the reappearance of his mousy friend. Small mousy stature. Soft mousy hair color. Big mousy eyes. Very clean, though- this mouse's previously mentioned mother, who he seemed terrified of, probably was very strict about how he looked. And was strict with everything else he did. Having a parent like that probably gave him an anxiety problem.

"Is that so?" Winston asked, almost as though this was news to him, tilting his head. He wanted to grin- this man seemed to be more hurt than angry over what happened.

"Yes, that is so-" Mousy boy stopped, mouth still open, as his eyes finally stopped on the woman draped over Winston's shoulder like a rag-doll. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no sound came out. He raised a shaky hand to questioningly point at the girl.

Winston raised an eyebrow. "Oh, _now_ you notice?"

"Um," Mousy squeaked fittingly. "Why is there a- wh- _kidnapping?_ "

"What kind of event is going on, mouse?" Winston asked, changing the subject all too casually.

"The event?" Mouse's eyebrows went together again in a thoughtful and slightly frustrated look. "It's a private party, I'm not authorized to know much about it. I heard it was some kind of demonstration-" he stopped. "Wait, why am I telling you this? You- you're kidnapping someone, or, or something dangerous like that! I'm calling the police!" He then promptly pulled out and fumbled around with his phone.

Winston raised an eyebrow. What kind of person tells another possibly dangerous person that they're calling the police, _and_ does it in front of them?

Winston shoved the gun case at the smaller man and hit the button for the second floor again. The elevator had actually gotten back to the first floor already, but Mousy hadn't even noticed it.

Mouse made a noise of surprise, first looking at the gun case in confusion, then looking at Winston pressing the button for the second floor again in even more confusion. "What're you doing- why are we-"

Winston made a shushing motion. "There's something going on with that event. We're going to check it out."

"We?" Mousy said in a hushed tone, grimacing.

"Yes, mouse, we," Winston said with a smile. "It'll give you a good excuse to both avoid staying at the desk _and_ being around your mother."

"That's not... my name," Mouse said, squinting at him. He seemed a little more thoughtful after avoidance of responsibility was mentioned.

"Really? Isn't that a surprise," Winston said with a snort. "It's not like you've mentioned your actual name, you know, and apparently you forgot to put on your standard employee name badge today."

The smaller man ignored being asked about his name, and gave a worried look. "Who is that woman you're carrying?"

"Do kidnappers usually use elevators while carrying their unconscious victims like this?" Winston asked sarcastically. "Look, I'll be letting her go after a while, but there's some dangerous stuff going on. Secret stuff. It's safer for her to be out, you see."

"Well I wouldn't know that, because I'm not a kidnapper!" Mousy snapped accusingly. Then his eyes got large again. "Wait, what? Secrets? Is this- is this related to the government?"

Winston tilted his head and made a vaguely agreeing sound. "Mm, something like that."

" _Something like that?_ " Mouse muttered in suspicion. "What on earth does that mean?"

Winston smiled. "I wouldn't want you getting too involved, so I'm afraid I can't answer that."

"That sounds kind of... cliche," Mousy muttered, but there was a spark of excitement his eyes.

"Well, I also want your keys," Winston said with a chuckle. "And I was getting tired of holding that." He gestured to the gun case, then thought for a moment. "Say- there's a sort of second floor or balcony overlooking the event room, isn't there? I say we get there in though VIP room access. I'm going to expect you have those, since the rich always like having their private little areas away from everyone else."

"Yes, that's where I just came from," Mouse said with a frown.

"As I thought. We'll be going back there again to take a quick look-see."

"Hey, wait a second, I don't trust you," Mousy spoke up, stiffening. "Avoidance of responsibilities or not, you've still got that woman with you and your excuses for that aren't really believable. I'm not just going to help you sneak around!"

Winston sighed. "Huh... so stingy! Well, it wasn't like I expected you to buy that, even though it's true- but it works _sometimes_ so I thought 'might as well try'. Fine then. Look, I already could've hurt you if I wanted to. You got yourself trapped in a small area with me and an already knocked out woman, and then threatened me with the police directly. That would've been a good time to do something to you if any. And yet I haven't laid a hand on you, which I find to have been incredibly polite on my part."

" _Polite?_ " Mouse repeated in disbelief. "That's- that's just called common courtesy! Something normal people are expected to do so everything doesn't get animalistic!"

Winston put his fingers to his lips and smiled. "Shh. I wasn't done yet. That was a _joke_. I was joking. Why do I always run into the easily offended ones, I wonder?" He hummed thoughtfully and examined the other. "Easily offended and panicky, yeah- wait, no, you're way too clean though, not like him at all-"

"What are you talking about?"

Winston froze, letting his hand fall to his waist again. "Ah. Hmm, I wonder."

 _What the hell,_ Winston thought, slightly panicked and shifting in silent discomfort. _Why was I comparing him to Mitch? No, I can't think about this right now._

Winston cleared his throat, laughed, and began again. "Never mind that, I tend to talk to myself a bit sometimes. Anyway, back to what I was saying. I have a bit of a gamble for you, if you'll humor me for a moment. We go take a look at that event. If everything seems normal, you can call the police on me or whatever you so desire-" _Not that I'll stay around to be caught, that is._ "-And if I'm right, if there is something wrong, I get off without a problem from you. Sound reasonable? Again, I could have harmed you at any time, but I haven't."

The other man shifted his gaze around a few times, looking as though he was having difficulty with deciding what to do in this weird situation.

"If you need help deciding I'll tell you this- if you do deny this and choose to try to call for someone now I will have to do something about that," Winston warned, narrowing his eyes. "The worst I'd do is knock you out as well, but I'm sure you'd rather not have that sort of nasty bump on your head anyway."

"Is knocking people out some sort of hobby for you?" Mouse muttered.

Winston blinked, tilted his head, then started laughing. "Oh wow, I really don't know how to answer that. I mean, could be…" He coughed and gave a slightly nervous smile. "Ah. Are you always like this?"

"Like what?"

"Do you make bitter remarks that are highly amusing on a regular basis?"

"No! Of course not. I'm much more polite when not in scary situations with kidnappers."

"Yes, you're the fan of common courtesy, etiquette, all that good stuff. I'm going to guess you're usually the one taking the bitter remarks rather than giving them, then," Winston suspected.

"...How did you know that?" Mouse asked in discomfort. "Also, the things you've just mentioned I'm a 'fan' of are practically the same things in different wording."

"Lucky guess," Winston lied, smirking. Did this person not know how obviously timid he was? Was that funny, or sad? Hard to tell. "Okay, I see. I really should stop comparing you to him. I would do better with that if I actually had a name for you, I think."

The elevator doors opened behind them.

The mouse-like man looked uncertain. "I don't know about that."

"Oh, come on. You're already so certain that everything is going to be fine in there, so you'll win the gamble and I'll be taken away. Something like that, at least." Winston shrugged. "Point is. You could at least give me the gift of a name if I'm going to be dragged away, right? Common courtesy."

The other opened his mouth to complain again, hesitated, and sighed. "Uh... Fine then, why not. My name is Oswald Labelle, but I much prefer just 'Oz' to that."

"'Labelle'?" Winston grinned. "Is that French? You're _French?_ "

Oswald sniffed. " _Half_ of my family is french, I was born here- and the meaning of that last name is a little embarrassing, but excuse me if I don't really like discussing this with someone carrying around a knocked out woman."

"You're French and you like being called 'Oz', I like you already," Winston said pleasantly.

" _Half-French!_ " Oz insisted.

"I'm just going to call you French anyway, you know," Winston said, waving a hand dismissively. "Also, those doors have been open for a while now. Lead the way, French boy."

Oswald turned to the elevator doorway, looked back at Winston in brief suspicion, and finally walked forward.

Winston trailed closely behind, smiling.

"I'm having a weird day," Oswald mumbled.

"I tend to have that effect on people," Winston agreed.


	42. Look me in the eye

Winston kept his eyes carefully focused on his current companion, Oswald Labelle, as the other man navigated the area for the both of them- and the passed out spy, although she certainly hadn't agreed to it. _Are you going to try anything stupid, I wonder, my little mouse?_ Winston wondered, watching the steady steps which seemed a little character for this person. _You certainly don't seem very threatening, but people tend to do strange things when backed into corners._

"Who are you?" Oswald suddenly spoke, although otherwise not pausing. He'd been silent for the small amount of time they'd been out of the elevator. From the way he voiced his question so clearly and without anything else added, it seemed likely he'd been getting up the courage to ask it, then saying it before he could change his mind.

Winston made a quiet noise of humor, a slight smile curving his lips. "Is that something you really want to know, or is it just one of those questions you're obligated to ask?"

Oswald's shoulders stiffened inward slightly, perhaps regretting his starting up another bit of interaction with the probable kidnapper and generally strange man he was leading.

Oswald cleared his throat, stopping, then turning to face the other. "Yes, I'd like to know. It's a bit of both, though. It's hard to know how to act right now, so acting on what I'm somewhat obligated to seems like one of the only things I can come up with." The smaller man sucked in an uncomfortable breath, biting his lip. His eyes were kept to the ground. "Just a name, at least."

Winston leaned over in an attempt to catch the hotel employee's gaze. He smiled when he succeeded in doing so, noticing his companion's mossy grey-green eyes for the first time. He liked them. "I don't know why you avoid looking at people directly like that- I think seeing other's faces is such a treat. Especially the eyes." He pulled back to his full height again, putting his free hand on his hip. "Look me in the eye when you speak and I'll answer questions the best I can, how about that?"

Oswald grimaced, cringing and making himself smaller again before forcing himself to stand up straight and look up to the other. "I don't… you're quite tall. I don't really like being reminded of my own height in comparison, I suppose. It's a bad habit. I'll try to make eye contact anyway, though, if it's necessary for cooperation."

Winston blinked, then held a hand up to muffle his own laughter. "Necessary for cooperation, you say? You make it sound like I'm the one being dragged around against my will rather than you." He paused thoughtfully and eyed Oswald again in a more suspicious manner. "You _are_ the unwilling one here, right? No hidden plans and traps up your sleeve? You didn't get involved with me on purpose, did you?"

Oswald's eyes widened. "You really think I'm capable of something like that? Goodness gracious, you really are very bizarre, aren't you? What kind of people are after you that you'd stop to worry about someone unimportant like me?"

Winston tilted his head. "Hm, I suppose not then, probably… it would be a very good cover for a spy to act like your type, though, but perhaps too good? Someone like you just has to be genuine, it'd be too obvious for a spy. I could go on and on about how being too obvious is just part of a plan to be less obvious of course, conspiracy after conspiracy, but it's better to stop now while we're ahead." He furrowed his brows. "Say, do you really think of yourself as unimportant? What a silly thing to think… that you're here at all at this moment seems to mean something, doesn't it?" He grinned. "Not that I believe in fate. Don't think for a second that I do… if you manage to get into something interesting it's an actual person's fault, probably your own, even if in the tiniest of ways- not some boring pre-decided mystical occurrence."

Oswald opened his mouth soundlessly, his arm raising slightly, then falling again with his expression. He seemed to have been about to disagree with something, but decided not to speak it out loud. His face seemed to go from shame, to some kind of hopefulness, then to nervous determination again. "Well. That's an interesting way of thinking, I suppose. Feeling special because of your own choices, right? But then… you'd feel the opposite of special for the same reasons and it'd be equally your own fault."

"You're quite the optimist, huh?" Winston said dryly. "But yes, I do think that to be true. A person who never leaves their house is going to have a different experience with things than someone putting themselves in the world everyday, isn't that right? That's simply normal logic, right there. I mean… you could say if fate willed it that the person never leaving their home would be visited and whisked away by destiny. However, that's unfair, isn't it? That one person, if being decidedly more important and chosen than another, has that better chance than someone who is very similar than them?"

Oswald looked up at Winston in shock. "I- you- how did we start this kind of talk?"

Winston scoffed. "We started it because you decided you were a less important person somewhere in your life, and I can't really let that slide so easily. It's unfortunate that you've somehow been caused to think in such a way, but it's also your own job to at least try to make your own choices to lead yourself to be more 'important'- although I don't terribly like that term being used in this topic at all. A more accurate use of wording might be 'satisfied with your own path' ."

Oswald frowned, and stared down again. "Such things aren't so easy to take control of as you're making them out to be."

Winston tensed, leaning over again and firmly grasping the smaller man's shoulder. " _Yes they are_. There are things that seem to take you and hold you back, yes, but then there are opportunities shown to us sometimes- risky ones, possibly. And it's up to you to decide if you're going to take a leap without thinking so much about all these other unpleasant things that could hold you back. You either do something about it or you don't, but at a certain point you notice you don't have so much to lose when you're already that unhappy."

Oswald was still for a moment before he flinched and shrugged off the hand, shying away. His face was a little flushed. "...I don't understand why you're trying to tell _me_ something like that. We're in this situation, which becomes stranger and stranger by the minute, and you've known me for barely any time. Do you say these kinds of things to any stranger you stumble upon?"

Winston straightened up, mentally shook off the awkwardness, and smiled. "Like you said, it's already a strange situation, so what's the harm in making it stranger? Besides, being nice to you could help me out a bit, couldn't it?"

Oswald narrowed his eyes. "You're lying."

Winston gave a half shrug. "Alright, so I am. At least I admit to it quickly, right? Fine then. I felt pretty helpless at one point in my life as well- uh, really all of my life early on. Maybe I can relate. And look at me now! Quite the nice change, hm?" He grinned, gesturing to himself rather pridefully in an obviously self-mocking fashion.

Oswald's frown didn't leave. Not that it ever really had yet, of course. There was a lot of frowning, confusion, and surprise from him. "I can… sort of believe that, but it's still very strange. Normal people don't act so strangely and suddenly supportive, especially if it's someone like you." He shook his head. "Wait, no, I don't even know anyone that I can compare to you, so I can't say that. Well, I could try… but still."

Winston raised an eyebrow. "Someone like me? What does that mean?"

"It isn't obvious?" Oswald said, taken aback. "Uh. You have that woman with you and you manipulated me earlier, but then now you're giving some kind of heartwarming advice. It's… confusing, very much so."

Winston was quiet for a moment before a very fox like smirk appeared on his lips. "You found it heartwarming, did you?" He purred.

"Normally, yes, I'd appreciate it beyond words, being treated like that," Oswald said carefully, glancing downward again. He turned his head up and looked Winston in the eye. "But right now, not as much, no. You still haven't even said your name. You create very large conversations out of small questions, it seems. It's true I'm a little back and forth on how to feel about your actions, but I'm still going to do the right thing. Even if I appreciate something you've said, it won't change that. I want to make that clear."

Winston observed the other, then gave a crooked smile. "I don't think of it any differently than you do. You're not as timid as I initially thought, are you? Or perhaps a little push was all you needed to bring out a little something more? And yes, I do create large conversations when those small questions bring up much more that can be said." _Although I'm afraid I do think I have affected what choices you've made, or are going to make, brave little mouse. I think I'm enjoying this more than I had planned to, and perhaps I'm being a little selfish and trying to push_ you _into something else…_

Winston paused in his thought.

_Then again, how selfish is it if any added person could help with my cause that much more?_

"My name- It's Winston," He said, smiling. "And a first name will be all you'll get at the moment."

Oswald nodded slowly. "Okay. Winston it is. You've drawn this out quite a bit."

"Yes, I know," Winston agreed rather unregretfully. "I apologize for that, although not by too much. We should go see what'll decide things for the near future, shouldn't we? I'll follow you once more, then."

_It's dangerous, that's why it's selfish. But whatever happens will be his own decision, won't it? I can't decide things for other people as easily now. And somehow, he seems more willing to be something more, even if he doesn't know it himself._

_If he sees something, it might be necessary anyway to get him on my side rather than having them do something to him to protect their secrets from the public eye._

They walked, and nothing eventful occurred in that time outside of Winston's own mind.

 _I think some part of him must want more_ ,He thought, watching the mouselike man. _For a person like him… yes, he must. That talk about being unimportant cannot exist without there being some sort of longing. Some sort of fear. Saying that kind of thing in such strong wording isn't just simple modesty, it isn't something someone at peace with how things are would say._

 _Maybe you're trying too hard to see yourself in him, and so quickly,_ A small unpleasant voice in Winston's head told him. _Maybe you're just trying to use him to pretend to save a younger, weaker version of yourself still somewhere inside of you. To make yourself feel better. To fix the unfixable. To remove the weakness in yourself by fixing what you believe to be the same weakness in someone else._

Winston's hands twitched as he resisted the urge to shoot himself with the gun he'd taken from Charlotte Conway, reason being to make himself stop thinking for at least one moment in the form of a brief shock.

He hated this feeling of desperation.

Instead he quickened his pace and tried to bring his mind away from those thoughts. He didn't need to think, didn't want to. He couldn't, not if that was what his mind would take him to now.

***

Oswald was, despite how he had been acting half of the time, extremely lost.

He'd never felt so confused about a person before, and he'd been confused by people a lot, just not this much. He couldn't figure out why this man, Winston, was behaving this way towards him. It was almost as though he expected something from Oswald.

But what? What on earth did some kind of kidnapper or special agent or whatever want from him, other than for him to give him directions to the event area? This person obviously could've just gotten him out of the way, and then easily found his way around on his own. Oswald only just found out where the event area was today, he hadn't known before- he hardly made the best guide in the world only being there once himself. Oswald wasn't in a high ranking here, he couldn't be of much help at all. Other from being easily manipulated, he was practically dragging the other down.

Winston had claimed earlier that he wanted Oswald's keys, but Oswald didn't even have keys to give.

Oswald gave a silent gasp. _Unless- I'm a hostage? Why the kindness, then, and all the convincing to make sure I went along without a struggle? Why not just knock me out first? Or grab me, better yet?_

He glanced at the case he held. _Maybe because his hands were full, and he couldn't grab me that way? Perhaps I'm really just… the luggage carrier? He did say that earlier, but I didn't really believe it..._

He groaned and shook his head, no, of course that wasn't right. _That's far too ridiculous a reason! Butter me up because he didn't want to carry something? Who would do such a thing._

The small man sniffed, and allowed a moment of consideration for this. _Well, he is pretty strange, and seemingly impulsive… no, I can't even begin to believe that. If that is the reason, I'll act surprised like I should when finding out, b_ ecause _that will not be my first theory._

"You alright there, Oz?" Winston asked from behind him with half-amused concern.

Oswald set his mouth in a stubborn line. _Maybe he doesn't even have a reason for it, and just likes making things up as he goes along as it fits him._ _Perhaps I'm just here for entertainment value. That, I think, will be my top theory here, for it is by far the most likely. Makes much more sense with his personality_.

"Fine, thank you," Oswald remembered to answer, although in a rather bland tone.

"Is that sarcasm?" Winston questioned, even more amused.

"Not purposefully," Oswald answered truthfully.

He turned a corner and caught sight of the large double doors, both sides closed. He tensed, giving a side glance to Winston. "This is it. Second floor balcony, overlooking the main event hall."

Winston came to a stop beside Oswald, and sniffed. "Main entrance for it then, yes?"

Oswald frowned, wondering to the importance of that. "Correct."

"I asked for entry through the rooms of the more well off customers," Winston said. "Unless you think we have a good chance of convincing the guards there to let us in through the most obvious place?"

"If I said yes I doubt you'd believe me," Oswald said with, shaking his head. "No, they wouldn't. Not me nor you- both of us would get a bad reaction. I really don't want to try talking to them again, they're already annoyed enough with me."

Winston grinned. "Yeah, I bet you don't. Sorry about that, did I say that already? It really was nothing personal."

"Well, it sort of was," Oswald muttered. "But I won't say anything about that right now."

"Hm," Winston gave a sheepish look. "Okay, you're right, it was technically rather personal in a way, at least on your part. My manipulating you through your inexperience and all- alright, I'm just going to get myself in more trouble, aren't I? I'll make it up to you sometime, you know, that's a promise."

Oswald's eyes widened- who knows how many times that had happened today. How was this man going to repay him? Getting such a promise only added confusion to confusion. But of course, he wasn't really about to refuse such a thing, either.

Oswald sighed. "...Special VIP guest rooms, huh? Yeah, okay, we can do that. Why not?"

Winston smiled brightly. "Ah, Oz, dear Oz, you are an _angel_. I hope you don't mind me breaking down a door- I didn't think to bring any extra keycards with me when I ransacked your desk, I'm afraid. Maybe we can try to figure out how to do it quietly? Maybe they just won't notice. _Maybe_ we can try to learn how to pick locks!"

Oswald stared up at the other wearily. He felt tired suddenly. More so tired than worried, possibly. "That's a whole lot of 'Maybe'. " _So he really is doing everything because he feels like it, huh? Wonderful._ He held the case with one hand and moved his free hand up to his face so he could groan into it.

Winston chuckled a little, and patted Oswald's head casually. "It'll be alright, Oz, you'll see. It'll all turn out just fine, you just need to tolerate this a little longer."

"I don't think I believe you," Oswald mumbled.

"Of course you do," Winston decided for the other without his permission, smiling an unwavering and always confident smile.

"Of course I do," Oswald repeated back, not completely convinced at all.

 

 


	43. Pity at first sight

Winston eyed the VIP guest room they were standing in front of with irritation. _In times like this, Lora would be so much more helpful. I'm almost ashamed of my own lack of knowledge in breaking and entering after all my years of messing around with things. Hacking computer data is so much more comfortable, isn't it?_

He sniffed, pulling out and eyeing his phone. _Ah, it's tempting to simply call her and ask for some sort of directions or assistance, but I already asked her to take care of Mitch._ He felt a pang of worry. _I hope she says something vaguely comforting- someone like her couldn't possibly resist not doing that. That's why I sent her in the first place. Taking care of him should be my responsibility, though._

He blinked, turned to Oswald, and gave the smaller man an expectant look. "So, Oz, get into any trouble in school? Rebellious teenager years? Peer pressure?"

"If you're trying to ask if I can give you some sort of help breaking into this hotel room, the answer is a very strong _no_ ," Oswald said, narrowing his eyes. "I was a perfectly respectable student, thank you very much."

Winston sighed, crouching down to slip Charlotte Conway off his shoulder and lean her up against the wall in a sitting position. "Shame, shame. I suppose us rookies of criminal acts wouldn't be able to manage even if we did get directions from someone more skilled, so I shouldn't even think of that as an option."

"You know someone like that?" Oswald asked cautiously, a little disdain leaking into his voice. "Someone 'more skilled'?"

Winston snickered, keeping his eyes down to his phone. "Careful there, Oswald, your pretentiousness is showing. Don't be so quick to judge, would you? This is a friend of mine we're talking about, after all," He warned, though still smiling.

Oswald shifted his weight restlessly. "Well, excuse me if I can't help but feel a bit suspicious of someone you associate with. Not to mention you just clearly said they were involved in crime?"

"You can judge me all you want, but there's no need to judge the ones helping me," Winston sighed, his smile softening. "I mean, really, they're more of keeping an eye on me rather than helping. Good people, very good."

Oswald was quiet for a moment. "I apologize, then. What're you doing with your phone?"

"Looking at the hotel's layout," Winston replied. "Meaning architectural, not as in 'where's the nearest elevator.' As in, let me check how to get around with the least trouble."

Oswald's eyes widened. "How did you get your hands on that?"

Winston laughed. "I'm not giving out my secrets, but let's just say I've got a few skills of my own that I can rely on. It might be better to try and do things my own way this time. Why are you still getting surprised by these things?"

"I find it hard to believe one could ever get used to such things," Oswald said, scowling.

"Maybe not, but isn't that what puts the excitement in it all?" Winston suggested. He watched the brief look of interest flash in Oswald's face from the corner of his eye, feeling quite smug over the reaction.

Oswald crossed his arms, clearing his throat rather awkwardly. "Well, while you're looking at that, why don't you… tell me a bit about your, ah, friends?"

Winston froze, eyes flicking over to Oswald's face in an attempt to find some sort of bad intent for asking such a thing. When he didn't anything other than seemingly honest curiosity, he bit his lip and gave a shrug. "Hmm, I don't see why not. I won't be revealing anything, though, if that's what you were hoping for," He said, still half suspicious. "Like I just said, not giving out my secrets."

"It's nothing like that," Oswald said without taking offense, shaking his head. "You just seemed to be thinking about them is all, so I thought perhaps you simply wanted to talk a little."

Winston smirked humorlessly. _It's funny, I try to play myself as a bad guy, and yet I get sympathy everywhere I go lately instead._

Winston sighed, and decided to speak as he looked for a way to go about his changed plans. "There's this woman, Lora. The one I mentioned? She seems to have the most obviously unpleasant background out of all of us. I don't know what her past is other than a few details. I could've tried checking her record by now, if she has one. I guess I'd rather have her tell me the specifics when she's truly comfortable, if that'll ever happen." He laughed a bit. "I've only been around her for a few days- but somehow I get this feeling, from the way she takes everything in stride, that she's already far too used to these sorts of things. Without already having that, she couldn't be acting so calm. I don't think she wants any pity, though, so respect is probably the way to go. At least that's what I think- but it's a little hard to know."

Oswald leaned up against the wall, observing Winston much more thoughtfully than before through half-closed eyes. "So basically, what you really mean by all that is that you're not quite sure how to treat that kind of person? If you're that worried about it, you should ask her about it yourself directly, don't you think? If you really want to make sure she's comfortable, I'm sure she'd appreciate it. If you told her that was your intent, of course."

Winston ran a hand through his hair, chuckling to cover up a sudden embarrassment he felt. "Well, I suppose you're right. She _would_ appreciate something like that, I think. Not that anyone wouldn't?"

"Well, some might like a more subtle approach, or think you were thinking of them as weak if you said something like that, so maybe not," Oswald pondered. "You did say you didn't think she wanted any pity, but as long as you don't make it seem like that it should be fine. You can have concern without pity, right…?"

Winston raised an eyebrow in amusement. "You seem to have thought about this kind of thing before? I thought you were the less social type, Oz."

Oswald's cheeks colored lightly, expression irritated. "Just because I'm a little careful with who I get close to doesn't mean I can't think about that kind of thing. Watching others is a good enough tool to teach yourself even if you don't do it yourself, isn't it?"

"No, not really," Winston disagreed immediately. "It's just as much true that lazy people can't become star athletes just by watching them."

"That's an extremely rude comparison, you know," Oswald sniffed. "And there's a flaw in your reasoning. Just because they couldn't do anything themselves, that doesn't mean they won't know a lot of things about the sport and the athletes participating. They might not be able to do the same thing, but they'll be able to know the right or wrong way of doing it. Like spotting a bad athlete from a good one."

"Okay, I think you've lost me on this whole comparison," Winston muttered. "Thinking about sports makes my head hurt a bit, I'm afraid."

"I have no interest in such things either, but you were the one who gave the analogy in the first place!" Oswald exclaimed. "What I mean, is that even though I'm terrible with being social myself, I can still understand the right and wrong ways of going about something."

Winston smiled warmly. "Alright, alright, I believe you. Really though, if you have such good knowledge of these things why don't you put it to use a little more?"

Oswald frowned. "What? Uh. Well I just. You know what, I could go on the whole day about all the reasons why I can't, but you know, you're busy with the whole," he made vague hand motions. "doing these illegal things. That whole thing. Don't want to slow you down."

Winston gave Oswald a blank look. "Isn't slowing me down and distracting me the exact thing you'd want to do in this situation, Oswald? So the authorities can get here, or so you can make a daring escape, or something along those lines?"

Oswald stuttered a few incomprehensible things and shook his head a lot.

"You're shaking your head. What does that mean? 'No' what? No, you don't want to do anything to oppose me right now? Is that what you're getting at?"

"I don't know!" Oswald snapped, still shaking his head. "I don't know what's going on anymore! I'm going to have a panic attack! I'm going to get fired for this, probably? My mother is visiting! I'm being held hostage by some crazy person, and he's being super nice to me! It's like I'm the main character of a novel for teenagers-" He stopped, suddenly realizing something. "Why didn't anyone see you on the security cameras?"

"That's the same thing I'd like to know," Winston said with a scoff. He then stood up. "Listen, Oswald. Oz. French boy. Maybe, just for a while, _you don't have to know what's going on_. Besides, do you normally know what's going on anyway? You don't seem to have much control over your life. Your mother controls you. Your boss controls you, and I'm sure everyone else at your work does too. Now, I do realize how hypocritical this must sound, seeing you must be thinking 'hey, he's controlling me too!' So _I'll_ give you a choice. You can go run off and call the police right now if you want, even though I told you not to earlier. Or, we could continue with this a little longer. Talk, break into rooms, live the whole 'novel for teenagers' situation, as you'd call it."

Oswald stared at the floor. "Why are you doing this? Not this in general. This with _me_. And I wouldn't be a main character in a novel for teenagers situation, wow is that getting annoying to repeat, I'd be a side character."

Winston snorted. "Hey, just because you're a side character in one story, you could be a main character in another. Besides, this is what I'm talking about, write your own damn story if you're so worried about being a side character in someone else's." He tilted his head. "And on my reasons. You've asked about those a lot. Maybe it was just a pity at first sight thing," He smirked. "I bet you hate the sound of that, though. It's not true anyway- well, not exactly."

"Stop lying already, then, please!" Oswald said in frustration.

Winston laughed nervously. "Aha, yes, maybe I have a bit of a problem with the whole lying thing. It's more of not telling the whole truth, though- okay, this isn't getting through to you at all, is it. Right." He hummed thoughtfully. "Well, Oswald, I hate to break it to you, but you aren't as normal and dull as you think you're destined to be- or whatever you say."

Oswald looked shocked. "Excuse me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't think I don't see those looks of interest you give me every once in a while."

Oswald froze, face turning red again. That happened a lot with Oswald, it seemed.

Winston watched him in confusion for a moment before bursting out laughing. "Oh, I apologize, I'm not flirting with you. I swear. That kind of thing probably wouldn't be helpful to my situation right now, you know? You look like the type to freeze up completely when someone flirts with you directly. Not that you aren't cute and all, but-" Winston narrowed his eyes. "Hm, I'm not helping right now. I literally just sort of did the thing I said I wasn't doing. You forget that, very off topic."

Oswald blinked, which reassured Winston slightly. "Okay," He said in an almost questioning tone. "Okay..." He said again, staring at Winston with his brows together, as if trying to figure something out.

Winston raised an eyebrow. "What? You're giving me a look. Studying me. Are you thinking something like 'he doesn't look gay'? Is that it? Because if so, first of all, _really?_ Second of all, no, I don't find myself attracted to one gender over another. Third of all, still really off topic and not something to be concerned about."

Oswald cringed in shame. "...I wasn't thinking something like that."

"If you're lying I'll let it go," Winston said. "Anyway, what I meant was that you want more out of life, don't you? You don't even want to admit it because you find it to be bad for some reason, maybe since you have this thought that you're not special, and you think you're stuck with that. Stuck with your life, stuck with your two thoughts. 'I'm not special, I don't deserve to be,' and 'I want to be special, I deserve to be'" He paused. "Funny how those two clashing thoughts can exist together so easily."

Oswald opened and closed his mouth a few times.

"Don't speak," Winston said. "Oswald. Remember how I told you that sometimes risky opportunities just show up? Once in a lifetime ones? And how you don't have much to lose when you're already unhappy? Maybe I'm your risky opportunity." Winston smiled and gave Oswald an interested look. "You want to be part of something bigger? I've got a few things going. Now, here you might be thinking, wow, this guy is probably just trying to get me involved with drugs! And actually, that's about half true, but not in the traditional sense."

Oswald gave an outraged look. " _What?_ Not in the traditional sense? What the hell does that mean?"

Winston chuckled. "Okay, so. Read comics when you were a kid?"

Oswald nodded slowly. "I had to hide them from my mother, but yes, they were like my treasures. I only had a few, but it still felt that way."

"Read anything with the whole superhuman experiment type deal?"

"Of course."

"That's what I meant by not in a traditional sense. Something created by humans to make a better human," Winston explained. "At first the dream of a genius of an idealist, trying to get by on his own with a small amount of resources. Of course, later noticed by an organization with connections to the government but their own authority. Organization decides to fund this project and take it in their own direction, although still needing the original guy to get it right.

Turns out the thing works- early prototype, at least. The take a few willing volunteers with terminal diseases and try it out on them. Everyone's thrilled, but there's still more things to be done.

Things get messed up, as they do. Cure turns virus through some sort of sabotage, people get infected, they turn into monsters. The original creator runs off in the chaos. Organization covers up what happens, but they spend years trying to find the original creator so they can make the cure again- because they don't know how to do it without this guy."

Oswald didn't show any sign of belief or disbelief yet. "Nice story. So that means what- you're the hero fighting against this whole cure and evil organization thing? Or maybe you're the genius of an idealist creator?"

Winston smiled. "No, Oswald. I'm a test subject."

Winston then turned to the door, took a step back, and rammed into it. Next moment he was on the floor on top of the now broken, laughing a hard to control, lighthearted laugh.

Oswald stared down at him in shock, wordlessly.

"I should've done this earlier," Winston breathed from the floor. "But I didn't really want to use the whole brute strength thing until after I told that story. Plus it works for extra effect, doesn't it? Telling you something like that then breaking the door down. Priceless, right?"

"Are you _insane?_ " Oswald said. "What the hell are you talking about? Why are you- what? _What?_ Literally what I think right now is that you are both very crazy and also very strong, not a good combination!"

Winston laughed again. "Ah, I suppose just that kind of story and then the door wouldn't be proof enough, would it." He got up and brushed himself off, even though he wasn't particularly dirty.

Oswald huffed. "No, of course not!" He turned and paced back and forth. "Christ, I'm sure you're just crazy now-"

Oswald continued to speak but Winston ignored him for a moment, sweeping aside his coat so he could pull the gun from the back of his pants.

When Oswald saw it he, very predictably, made a high pitched noise of terror. "What're you doing with that, don't hurt me- I swear I don't really think you're crazy-"

Winston smiled warmly. "Don't worry, Oz, it isn't for you," He said calmly, remembering Charlotte Conway's words from earlier.

He turned the gun up to his own forehead and, ignoring Oswald's louder sounds of panic, promptly shot himself.

Oswald's hands went up to his mouth. He didn't even have the time to scream, or do anything other to stand there, frozen yet again. A feeling of dread quickly changed into one of overwhelming amazement as Winston did not fall or bleed, but instead moved the gun back downward and tucked it in the back of his pants again.

He did not die, but there was still _a hole in his head_. A moment later a bullet fell from that hole, and then the skin knit back together, healing before his eyes. Then, there seemed to be no proof that Winston had ever shot himself in the first place.

"Ta-da!" Winston said, and grinned at him. "So, that must've been extremely traumatic to see, huh?"

"Yes," Oswald croaked in agreement, shocking himself by speaking up. He put his face into the palms of his hands. "I think I'm going to throw up."

 


	44. Important questions

Oswald splashed water in his face, looking at himself in the mirror. A pitiful sight, he thought begrudgingly. He sighed, slumping against the counter of the overly luxurious bathroom sink. At another time, he would have swooned over the chance to see the inside of the VIP rooms, but now all the fanciful parts of it just felt obnoxious and unnecessary to him. He was irritated at himself over not being able to appreciate it, as well.

He took comfort in the familiarity of fussing over his looks and fixing himself up, trying to look properly presentable.

 _Properly presentable for what,_ he wondered, _the immortal monster outside waiting for me? Christ, Oswald, your stupid habits aren't going to do you any good now._

Well, maybe not, but they'd probably make him feel a little better anyway. If you get caught up in an insane situation, you might as well look good, right? Oswald chuckled in a rather empty imitation of amusement.

"You alright in there, Oz?" Winston's muffled voice said from the other side of the door.

Oswald blinked. He'd left the water on for too long without even using it, he noticed, so he turned it off. "Yes, I'm fine," Oswald finally called back. "Just _thinking_ ," He mumbled to himself.

Winston opened the door and peeked in, curious expression on his face. One of his most often used expressions, it seemed, other than a smile. "You know, I've found that 'fine' is a very relative term. It's to be expected, of course."

Oswald groaned. "I just don't know how to answer truthfully to that- I don't really know myself, you see. Am I fine? Am I not fine? You tell me."

Winston smiled at him warmly. "Well, I think you're taking it pretty well, if you really do want my opinion."

"That's true," Oswald admitted. "I imagine the shock is just going to catch up with me later, though."

"Most likely," Winston agreed. "It's still good. I feel like I'm making progress. Learning how to break this whole thing to people without them screaming at me too much."

Oswald raised his eyebrows questioningly, but Winston just laughed and shook his head. "Stories for another time- I have quite a few of them, you see, and too many at a time would be overwhelming. You have plenty to think about with what I just gave you."

"Right," Oswald said slowly, stowing his curiosity away for a later time. "So, uh, what now?"

"Well, I'm glad you asked," Winston started, walking out of the bathroom and gesturing for Oswald to follow. "First, the spy has to be kept nice and cozy," he muttered, kneeling down next to the woman he'd been carrying around.

"Spy?" Oswald repeated, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes, exactly," Winston said. "Now you're getting the idea."

"No, I'm really not," Oswald protested. "She's a spy? A spy for _whom?_ "

"Oh please, you can guess that much, Oz! You're smarter than that."

"The organization?" Oswald asked dryly. "Does this organization even have a name?"

Winston snickered. "Someone's finally asking the really important questions!"

"I was being serious."

"I know," Winston said. "And the answer is, well, probably. I don't know it, though. Never bothered to look into it. Didn't seem very beneficial, you see, and calling it the organization works just fine most days. Plus, something that simple sounds ominous as hell."

"Is it sounding ominous really that necessary?"

"Absolutely."

Oswald rolled his eyes.

Winston stood up, admiring his work. "She won't be getting out of those any time soon."

Oswald's eyes widened. "Did you just tie her up with zip ties? Did you just have those in your pockets the whole time?"

"I'm a man of preparation and planning, Oswald!" Winston sniffed with a mock haughty attitude.

"Of course you are," Oswald muttered, shaking his head.

"Anyway, she had about ten small hidden knives on her," Winston said, showing off the tiny blades held in-between his fingers. "She might even have more. One has to have a certain amount of decency when searching enemies for secret weapons. My repulsion for the idea of strip searching her might be my downfall, but maybe she'll thank me for it before then. You never know."

Oswald stared, brows furrowed, at the other. "If you say so."

"I'm also shutting her in the bathroom," Winston informed him. "And you're standing watch."

"What?" Oswald said in disbelief. "What do you mean, I'm standing watch? Why? I thought I was going with you!"

"You'll be helping," Winston said. "If the girl wakes up I want you to talk to her a bit. Calm her down."

"Distract her?" Oswald suspected.

"Something like that," Winston said with a smile. "Her name is Charlotte. Charlotte Conway. If you're nice to her I think she'll appreciate it, at least a little bit. I said some pretty unpleasant things to her a while back as a strategy."

Oswald was quiet for a moment. "And I suppose that strategy worked, seeing she's the one tied up right now. At least you admit that it wasn't a good thing."

Winston blinked. "Well, I don't always admit to it, Oswald."

Oswald frowned, then nodded, vaguely getting the meaning of what the other said.

"She'll probably say some things to you about me, you know," Winston said, tone a little less stable. He gave more eye contact than before. "Some of the things she says might be true, too. Just a warning. Judge me yourself, though. And remember, the people that she works for aren't any better than me. I'd say they're worse, but our end results are more or less the same thing. Power. They seek power. Power just happens to be something that'll be a side effect of my main goal. Do you understand?"

Oswald broke the eye contact, biting his lip. "I'll keep it in mind, Winston."

Winston gave a small smile. "Lovely."

"Say," Oswald started, fidgeting. "You have all of this incredible ambition. Why would you try to get someone like me have anything to do with all this? I'm not confident, I'm not strong, I don't have a bunch of special skills you'd need for this kind of thing-"

Winston slid a hand over Oswald's mouth. "Shh. You're not judging me correctly right now. I've got plenty of 'special skills' packed into my own damned body. What I _need_ , are people who want to be part of something, who can understand my vision. That's you... isn't it?"

Oswald flushed, and gave an irritated look, pulling Winston's hand away from his mouth.

"Not going to say anything?" Winston asked, grinning.

"I'm not going to snap at you when you just said something like that."

"'Something like that'?" Winston repeated.

"I'm not explaining my meaning," Oswald sighed. "You don't need to have your ego fed."

Winston failed to hide his smirk. "Oh, I think you already explained it just perfectly by saying that, Oz."


	45. Good little boy

Charlotte Conway woke up angry.

This was clear to Oswald as soon as he heard the banging and hysterical yelling from the bathroom.

He had the urge to barricade the door with more things than were already there.

The screaming and cursing went on for a while, rage mostly directed towards Winston, before there was a silence. That scared Oswald almost as much as the noise did.

"Is there anyone there?" A groggy voice croaked out from the other side of the door.

Oswald approached the door cautiously, crouching down a small bit away from it, enough to speak normally and be heard. "Hello, Charlotte. How are you feeling?" He asked.

Quiet again for a few minutes- she was thinking. "Like shit," She sighed. "And the name's Charlie, if you fuckin' please."

Oswald couldn't help but cringe a little at the swearing and in surprise at the general roughness of her voice. "Hello, Charlie. My name is Oswald. I'm sorry you feel, uh, that way. I wish I could help, I really do."

There were a few sharp barks of laughter from Charlie. "No, you really don't. If you wanted to help, I'd be out of this damned prissy bathroom by now, wouldn't I?"

"I'm sorry," Oswald said firmly. "I'm at least sincere in that."

"A lot of people are supposedly sincere," Charlie told him. "Namely liars."

"I'm not lying," Oswald said, irritation creeping into his voice.

"Liars would say _that_ too."

"There isn't really a way for me to prove I'm not a liar, is there?" Oswald said dryly.

"Oh, there are ways," Charlie said, amused. "But those ways aren't things I have access to now. _So_ , where's your friend?"

Oswald narrowed his eyes at the door, standing up. "Is that really something you think you'll get an answer to?"

"No, I'm not a fucking idiot. Well, maybe I'm a little bit of one for ever getting into this job in the first place. How about you, Ozzie, how'd you get stuck guarding little old me?"

"I really dislike that nickname," Oswald muttered, walking to the kitchen of the room in an attempt to find snacks. He was a bit of a stress eater.

"Ozzie? Oswald?" Charlie called. "Come back, kid! Answer the question!" There were banging noises from the door. "Don't fucking leave me alone again!"

Oswald cringed, guilt and fear washing over him in equal amounts. _Damn it, I can't do this._ He cursed himself and went back to looking through the cupboards and pretending Charlie wasn't there.

Yet in the background, he could still hear her _talking_ to him, switching between sweetened words and apologies, and screaming at him. He liked it better when she was angry at Winston. Now her attention was all on him.

"Ozzie," Charlie said, tone calmer this time around, briefly tired from the outbursts. "What do you want? What'd he promise you to make you keep a fucking human locked up like an animal, huh? You can tell me. You can tell me anything, Ozzie. Money? Power? What do you want, kid? I'll double the offer if you let me outta' here." She paused. "But if it's something dirty, if you start thinking you could take advantage of the pitiful tied up girl, then I'll fucking gut you," she growled. "But you aren't like that, are you? You're a proper good little boy, aren't you?" She scoffed. "Yeah, that's right. Obedient little Ozzie, how fucking pleasant. Ozzie is _sorry_. Ozzie wishes he could _help!_ How sweet."

She quieted again.

Oswald frowned, and looked back at the door questioningly.

"Let me out of this fucking room, or I swear I'm going to hunt you down and kill you myself!" Charlie screamed.

Oswald swore, sat down on the kitchen floor, and put his face to his knees, shaking slightly.

 _If I'm nice to her she'll appreciate it, he said,_ Oswald thought bitterly. _Why'd I even think that would be true? Of course that wouldn't be the case. Christ, what did Winston say to her? What the hell is going on with any of this?_

Oswald's eyes lingered on the door to the hallway for a moment. _I could get away from all this just like that. I could just run._

_Like I always do._

"Ozzie," Charlie said in a sing song voice. "I'm going to murder you when I get out of here. You know that, right? You don't resent me for it, do you?"

"Not at all, Charlie, I know," Oswald replied blankly, putting his face back to his knees. "I'm going to die."

Charlie scoffed after a moment at his answer. "Oh? At least complain a little about it…"

 


	46. Nothing is coincidental

Winston slipped out the door to the indoor balcony, crouching low to the floor and taking in his surroundings. A voice was echoing around the whole event hall, something he hadn't heard before. Winston's hearing was extraordinary if he put proper attention into it, so why didn't he hear it previously? Was the room soundproof? There were too many questions, something which always made him more than frustrated.

Winston started to listen in, catching the speaker in the middle of his sentence.

"...testing the formula without permission. Surely it was clear that you wouldn't get away with such a thing for very long without us noticing? Someone smarter tipped us off that there had been bragging from your group, that you'd been running your mouth about how you'd gotten further than us in progress on the cure."

Winston recognized that voice. He couldn't quite match it to a face, but something about it made a feeling of anger stir in him.

At least he could understand a little of what must be happening. _Crossing the organization and getting caught? Can't bring myself to feel sorry for anyone that sets up their own funeral like that. At least I have immortality as insurance for when I fuck with them._

Two guards were keeping watch on his level.

Winston crept up behind the first, using the syringe from earlier again to drug him. He held the guard's shoulders as he fell, murmuring calming words for a moment until the man passed out. He then stood up, seeing the second guard standing only a small distance away from him.

The guard wasn't doing anything, Winston quickly realized. Not making any move against him, or even seeming at all shaken that the other guard had temporarily going down. _What the hell? Did someone want me here? That would mean… do they know I found Jack already? Was this a distraction to get me away from Jack? No, but..._ Winston cursed, shaking his head. He didn't understand and he wouldn't until he got all of the facts, trying to take guesses wouldn't get him anywhere. He turned to face the edge of the balcony, slowly walking towards it while still keeping an eye to the unconcerned and still-standing guard.

"We seized your supposedly _improved_ formula when we raided your labs. Now, you seemed so pleased with what you'd done, so I feel particularly curious about this." There was a paused, and a laugh. "We haven't gotten to actually testing your formula on live patients, so we don't yet know if it's actually all you make it out to be… now, I got to thinking, why don't we test it today?"

Winston ran over to and grasped the balcony edge railings with a new desperation. He knew what they were doing. Another group stealing their research wouldn't get off lightly, so he should've expected this. _They're being made an example of, in more ways than one. Damn it, infecting even more people with their corrupted version of the cure, just what I needed. They're ruining everything. They'll never get anywhere good without Jack's mind._

Winston peered down.

The man who was speaking stood up on a proper stage, opposite end of the event room from Winston. His jaw-length, almost white blond hair, stood out right away. He also wore a well fitting suit, which helped attract attention to his physically appealing lean frame. His body type was very similar to Winston's, if you were excluding their difference in height, and there was a definite reason for the similarity.

Winston felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of the other man, and his hands were almost shaking with the rage that suddenly clawed at his chest.

Cyril Morales. Winston would've recognized him anywhere, even if the guy hadn't been standing on a damn stage and talking about experimenting on live test subjects. Winston always did get the impression that he loved the attention.

Cyril's eyes were on Winston in a heartbeat, and he actually looked _pleased_ to see him _._ "I think my special guest has arrived, if everyone would clear a space for him, please?" Cyril called out.

Cyril had a very memorable voice, something Winston felt like he only had heard yesterday. Charming with just the right amount of commanding presence. When Winston started lying and manipulating for his own purposes he always kept this man in the back of his mind for an example, and it certainly helped him become better at it. It was probably why the voice was so clear in his mind, even if it took him longer to connect it to the face.

At Cyril's words, a few guards herded the guests to the sides of the room. Winston frowned, and pulled himself over the handrails, in the air for a few moments before landing on the floor below.

Winston wasn't sure why he was going along with what seemed like such an obviously dangerous situation. Perhaps it was in his nature.

Cyril came down from the stage, his shoes click-clacking on the stairs on the side, and walked straight up to Winston. Cyril smiled, his eyes glittered, and he opened his arms up slightly as though he expected an embrace. "It's been a while."

Winston stared at him for a few moments, bit his lip, and punched Cyril in the face. _Ah, yes, that was why I was going along with it. I really, really wanted to do that._

Cyril staggered back, hand to his face where he'd been hit. His guards started trying to grab at Winston in response to their boss being attacked, but Cyril quickly brought his other hand up and made flippant gestures at them.

"Winston," He muttered. "that wasn't a very civil way to greet an old friend. That _hurt._ "

Winston narrowed his eyes. "Did it now?"

Cyril straightened up, was quiet for a moment, and started laughing again- it was so bright sounding that Winston almost even believed it was real.

"I was joking, of course it didn't hurt. I didn't feel a thing, thanks to the wonderful gift we both were given once upon a time."

" _I_ was given a gift," Winston corrected, taking a step forward for intimidation value. "You took something for yourself without permission out of greed. It's funny you're lecturing these people you've caught about stealing when you did the same thing 'once upon a time'."

Cyril sighed, flashing a melancholic look. "It doesn't hurt physically, but emotionally you're wounding me with this sort of talk. I know what I did at the time wasn't exactly ethical, but that's in the past! What's important is that we're the same, Winston. We might be on different 'sides', as you might claim, but I think that's just silly to even take into consideration. We should be working together, we can understand each other in ways others can't," He paused to offer a smile. "I know we didn't part on the best of terms, but I want to change that."

"You seem to think I would put loyalty in you just because you took the same cure that I did," Winston observed. "That's an incorrect judgement, and you don't know me. I go more by goals, and our goals certainly aren't the same. These silly sides you complain about aren't really at all _silly_."

"No, no no no-" Cyril snapped, biting his lip. He turned on his heel and started walking back in the stage's direction. "They aren't as important. You don't understand. Nobody's head works the same way as mine does anymore! It's been driving me insane for the past years living like this, with these people. These- these _humans._ " He said the word human as though it was poisonous, something Winston didn't understand at all. They were still humans, just more evolved. The way Cyril thought of them separately from humans made him feel uneasy.

Cyril clacked up the steps and went for what Winston expected to be the backstage room.

Winston followed the other man, trying to match his pace. "There's nothing driving you insane but yourself, Morales," He argued. "That's what happens to us, seeing the cure isn't perfect. It's a side effect."

Cyril opened the door for Winston into the back room, then closed the door and laughed harshly. "Yes, I've noticed. They like to poke and prod at me and tell me exactly what's wrong with me. I'm the only subject they have for the results of the original cure, you know. Everything we make on our own is disgusting." He sighed. "You know, I'd really like to get my hands on whoever sabotaged the cure and made it into a filthy monster-making virus," He spat, shaking his head. "Such a loss..."

"I always thought someone from your side ruined the cure, maybe even you specifically," Winston said, raising an eyebrow. "Otherwise, how could they not have discovered who did it yet?"

"I didn't do anything of the sort," Cyril said with a frown. "But I have theories as to who did, and it isn't someone from within the orginization."

"I don't buy it," Winston scoffed. "Your people do wonders with finding people who don't want to be found and then keeping track of them, so why not the person who did that? It seems like it'd be a high priority, finding someone who ruined one of the chances of a lifetime."

"You're thinking of yourself?" Cyril asked, furrowing his brows. "You were easy to find, scrambling about after running away from the hospital. The first thing you did was go to your parent's house, for christ's sake. I don't hold it against you, and you _have_ improved your skills at hiding now, but it's a bad example to use. We are decent with it anyway, I suppose, but what about Eyrich?"

Winston chuckled. "I haven't heard anyone call him that in such a long time. I just use Jack. His last name is hilarious, though, and so _very_ ironic… and I'm the last person who should laugh about it, really."

"Excuse me?" Cyril raised his eyebrows.

"Inside joke," Winston said dismissively. "If I told you it'd be giving away valuable information that you clearly don't know, or else you wouldn't need to follow me around in an attempt to catch him."

"You've always had a much better chance of finding him than we did," Cyril said smoothly, keeping his organization's pride in tact with the excuse. "It was a good choice to have you watched but allow you to roam free for that reason. You and Jack were obviously close friends back then- he doted on you much more than the other test subjects."

Winston shifted in discomfort. They probably wouldn't have left him alone to look for Jack if they had known he'd had a mental break and clawed the poor man's eyes out. "You worked with him, so why didn't they have you go search for him too?" Winston shot back.

Cyril sneered at him. "We might have worked on the project together, but we weren't _friends_. I had wanted to be friends with him, seeing he was such a brilliant man, but I don't think my sneaking a taste test of the cure gave a good impression."

"He only put up with having scientists from the organization hover around him because they invested so much money in the project," Winston scoffed in amusement, hopefully getting an offended reaction from Cyril. "So I'm sure it was a relief to have a reason to dislike someone with them. It was only a matter of time before one of you people did something selfish, after all."

Cyril scowled. "I wish you'd stop trying to provoke me, Mr. Blair. Don't you understand? I'm helping you, trying to make you understand we should be together on this. I got you to come here, left clues I was sure you'd notice."

Winston eyed Cyril carefully. He had come here because of the spy, Conway, who'd been about to alert her higher ups about him finding Jack. What clues was Cyril talking about?

Cyril chuckled. "You don't get it yet, do you? I made it so it was perfect for you, I helped you in hopes you'd listen to me because of it. Don't you see, Winston? How easy things were? You must've noticed, I know your intelligence is significantly high."

Winston stared at Cyril blankly. "Are you trying to make me reveal something by being vague, Cyril?"

"No!" Cyril snapped. "Nothing is coincidental, Winston! Not with our lives. I know you found him. Dr. Eyrich, I mean."

Winston examined Cyril for a moment. This could still be a lie, although an odd one.

"Look, I'm not lying," Cyril said dryly. "I'll tell you directly if that'll make you feel warm and fuzzy inside. The spy called me first. I've been paying her off. I like to know about any movement you make before anyone else knows about it."

Winston's eyes widened. "I've had him for less than a day, Cyril! How could you have gotten here and set up this damned thing that fast?"

"I didn't." Cyril frowned. "I was… in the area, and I just happened to already be having a meeting today to deal with these degenerates. I didn't know when you'd go after the spy, but I had her staying in the same hotel as I was so I'd be able to catch you when you came for her, which I'd hoped you'd choose to do. And here we are! Is she dead? Because if so, that's a shame. I'd have to start bribing someone else, and she was very skilled."

Winston was actually a bit caught off guard, for once. "Cyril, have you been personally stalking me? Bribing a spy for first dibs on information is one bit of creepy, but actually staying in the same area as I am? Crossing a line."

Cyril tensed up. "Wait, th-that's such a severe way of putting it, especially with our connection."

Was that a _stutter?_

"You're obsessed with me," Winston said weakly, slumping slightly in realization. "Your own personal version of crazy has decided to latch onto _me_ , and this is the first time we've even talked in years."

"I am not obsessed with you!" Cyril hissed. "And it isn't like that! I've read your file, kept track of your progress- I feel like I know you, Winston, better than anyone. God knows people like us need that."

Winston huffed, bringing a hand up to massage his temples. "You're an embarrassment, you know. I wonder if this is what I seem like to other people- Christ, I hope not. You're a crazy bastard, and you're _in love with me_."

"You're a fucking narcissist, you know," Cyril growled. "But I'm still not giving up on you. I've risked myself by covering up the fact that you found Jack for a while, yet you still won't listen to me. You'd have lost Eyrich if I hadn't-" He made an exasperated sound and put his mouth in a thin line. "You owe me, Winston Blair, and that's a fact you'd better be aware of." He walked to the door and back out onto the stage again, speaking as Winston automatically followed him out. "I'm tired of arguing for the moment, and I was in the middle of something. Not more important than you, really, but you can wait. I'm sure you'll find this interesting anyway…"

Cyril went back to his microphone, and Winston kept his own cautious distance while stopping to look out at the people in the room.

He'd been too distracted by Cyril before (Stupid crazy Cyril), and hadn't observed the other man's so called guests. There were a few people that had guards crowded around them, and their hands were probably tied. These were the scientists who had stolen samples of the corrupted cure and apparently claimed to have improved it, even though the organization itself hadn't been having as much luck as far as Winston knew.

There were other people in the crowd that were actually there willingly, Winston realized. Real guests, there for a viewing of the virus. Probably made up of scientists, but also influential people who invested in the organization and wanted proof of progress. Nobody likes a bad investment.

Winston felt disgusted by all of this, but crossed his arms and stood back quietly. He knew to pick his battles, and the whole thing held some very valuable information for him. Cyril was baiting him and it was working.

"I apologize for the delay," Cyril said cheerily. "The man up here with me is a very important friend of mine, and we needed to catch up on a few things. Enough about me, I'm sure we're all excited to see this 'improved' cure in action! Let's see what our thieving friends can really do. If they're so confident about their work, they can test it themselves without worrying at all, wouldn't you say?" Cyril put his hand up to something at his ear, probably a bluetooth, muttering into it for a moment.

Doors opened at the right side of the room, and a few guards started rolling a large see-through containment area in.

Winston narrowed his eyes and walked up fairly closely behind Cyril, leaning in to speak in a hushed tone to the man's ear. "Will that really hold someone infected, with their considerable strength and sometimes unique mutations?" He didn't trust it for a second.

Cyril chuckled darkly. "Of course, it's been tested for this very purpose. We always do things efficiently, Winston."

Winston scoffed, moving to stand more comfortably beside Cyril rather than behind him. "It was tested for this purpose _before_ the virus was improved, Cyril. This virus could have different results now, could it not? That's what we're hoping for here?"

Cyril thought about this for a moment. "If it gets out of control, I'll take care of it. There are investors to protect, even if I would like to see what this type of infected could do to a group of humans..."

"You're disgusting," Winston muttered.

"And you're going along with this in a completely peaceful way, so don't you think it's hypocritical to call me that?"

"Oh, I never said it wasn't," Winston said, slightly amused.

A guard dragged one of the traitor scientists away from the others, all the while the man was struggling and trying to scream through a gag that had been shoved in his mouth.

"This feels promising," Cyril commented absently. Winston thought he was mostly talking to himself, so he didn't reply.

Winston eyed Cyril for a few moments while his guards prepared to dose the traitor with corrupted cure and shove him in a giant cage.

Something about being around someone who knew things about him, really knew, made him uncomfortable. It made him feel too vulnerable. Knowing him from when he'd been in the hospital and was different than other things.

Cyril and Jack had both been people from his past, both scientists working on the cure, but Jack and he had been friends at least- and Jack didn't remember that friendship now. Winston wasn't sure he wanted Jack to ever remember their friendship, because then he'd hate him all the more. Having your eyes clawed out by some crazed asshole is one thing, but having them clawed out by your crazed _friend_ of an asshole? Much worse, he'd expect. He'd keep that knowledge to himself for as long as he could, even if it was for selfish reasons.

Cyril had been a scientist personally chosen by the organization to work with and keep an eye on Jack at that time, as the rest of his group had been. Jack had shared his discomfort on working with the organization from the start, but he had needed the money to go any further with the project. It was his life work. The way Jack had talked about all his hopes for the cure… Winston had _completely_ bought into it, and had gotten just as passionate. Everything that happened after that only made him feel even more of an obligation to take Jack's dream on, to try and protect it. It was just such a pure thing, and that hadn't been completely ruined.

Winston was the one who had caught Cyril. He'd been injecting himself with the same cure Winston had taken- and the man was a scientist, not a damn test subject. It had made Winston extremely angry. All of the cure testing was supposed to be used on patients who actually needed it, like Winston did. Cyril was a healthy and privileged person. Everyone would be cured at some point, that was the whole plan, but early testing was saving lives, even with the side effects. But Cyril was greedy, and apparently decided he needed it right then, more so than the dying patients who had bravely signed up for it. Somehow this man decided he deserved it more than those people, and had weighed human lives so easily.

Winston had actually gotten so angry that he had started trying to beat the hell out of the other man, as if that would actually change something- but all Cyril did was _laugh_ and exclaim that he could beat him all he wanted because _nothing hurt_ and nothing would _ever hurt again_ , he couldn't be touched. Others eventually pulled Winston off of Cyril, with Cyril still laughing hysterically and Winston still screaming at him.

Nobody was pleased with Cyril for doing it, but they never had him arrested or anything, since he was another valuable test subject now, and all subjects were too valuable to lose.

Cyril wasn't wrong about not being able to be touched, and it had applied in more ways than just the physical immunity.

For a long time Winston was sure Cyril was the one who had sabotaged the cure. Cyril seemed like the kind of person who'd want to be the only one to be invincible, and so he'd make sure nobody else could have the cure. Cyril said it wasn't him, though, and Winston believed him. He wasn't really sure why.

Winston did understand something, though. Cyril was lonely. If he had been the one to sabotage the cure, he'd regret it by now. Cyril's mind was different and it upset him to not be able to speak to anyone with a similar mind, so he was making some desperate grabs at Winston in an attempt to fix it. It wasn't fixable, Winston wanted to tell him, even if you got over one issue another would arise. Hell of a side effect.

The guards unceremoniously stuck a needle in the captured traitor's arm, and shoved him into the glorified cage.

A look of pure terror came across the prisoner's face as he clawed madly and unaffectedly at the walls of his container.

"He's acting like a rabid animal already," Winston muttered. "is it just me, or has the process gotten faster?"

Cyril grinned and gave Winston a vaguely smug side glance. "No, you're not wrong. You've missed a lot."

"I can see that. Your people made that advancement on their own?"

"Yes, that's old news," Cyril said dismissively. "The exciting things will happen after this, hopefully."

The man in the cage fell, twisting around into various painful looking positions. Winston cringed when he heard cracking noises coming from the guy, but Cyril, of course, looked delighted. He eventually stopped flailing about, settling instead for just twitching, then at last just staying completely still.

Winston frowned. "He still looks normal."

Cyril nodded. "Not everyone gets sudden weird skin colors and claws, Winston. It's the insides that count."

Winston gave a humorless smile. "Everyone's beautiful on the inside, huh?"

"That sounded really lame," Cyril muttered.

"I know. Eyes on the prize."

They both turned their attention back on the infected man.

The man woke back up, slowly pulling himself into a crouch. He looked crazed for a moment, then his expression changed back into the original fearful one. He started asking for help, saying he felt weird and that he would do anything if they just let him out and back home with his family.

Winston gave Cyril an alarmed look. "Does he not have amnesia? They always get amnesia."

Cyril sniffed. "It takes a moment to kick in usually, the amnesia, I mean- so don't freak out yet."

"But don't their memories always get instantly fuzzy? Make them ask him about his family," Winston insisted, excitement bubbling up despite the situation. "If he knows he has one but they're getting all faded, it's normal. Come on, please?"

Cyril sighed, and shouted the orders to a guard. The guard began conversing with the man through the walls of the cage, Winston waiting impatiently beside Cyril for results. They both listened with trained ears to the conversation, faces becoming more and more shocked in response to what they were hearing.

"He remembers who he is," Winston breathed, breaking the tense silence they'd had while listening. "He doesn't have the amnesia, which means-"

"Things are going to change," Cyril finished for him, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

 


	47. Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are such sappy lesbians it's absolutely unbelievable, I swear to god. Really sappy. These two are just ridiculous. Don't yell at me, I love them, they're in love, and I can't help but write super fluffy lovey dovey things.  
> One minute it's subtle tests and suspicion, the next it's flustered affection with these two. I like it.  
> I'll check up on this chapter again later and fix typos if they're there. It's two am.

Gabriella came to the husk that night, far after any meetings would’ve usually occurred.

The husk knew it was night, because it became dark to match the outside world within the impersonation of her void. Was it a way to mock the husk, who was trapped in a place like a snowglobe? To comfort her for the lack of anything real? She wasn't sure. Stars that she couldn't name twinkled above at this time, and the idea of an existing floor became more solid and textured. Soft grass, maybe.

She couldn't sleep, like all the infected monsters couldn't, but could instead take a small interest in the scenery change.

She was usually alone, usually in that white void, so anything different offered was clung to rather desperately. It would become routine soon enough, but now she couldn’t help but look up each night and wonder about the names of the stars she saw.

Which meant, of course, that the fact that Gabriella had suddenly come to visit her was a very exciting thing. A vague confusion pushed at the back of the husk’s mind along with the excitement, but she ignored it.

The moment she felt the doctor’s presence in the fake void, she had to stop herself from leaping up from her place on the grassy feeling ground to meet the other. Her eyes still shone as she sat up with hands on her knees, heart beating loudly in her chest. She had never really paid attention to her heart before, hadn't even known the thing was still going. Now it was too loud to ignore, especially with how quiet everything else was. For a moment she even worried that the doctor would hear it too.

Gabriella had to climb up a hill that had formed, and when she came into view the husk could see that she was grinning.

The husk sucked in a breath, looked at the expression knowing instantly that the doctor wasn’t supposed to be there, and waited for whatever explanation was soon going to come.

Gabriella approached the husk, stopping when they were almost touching feet, and leaned over her, mirroring the hands on the knees pose.

The woman’s face was framed by the stars behind her. The husk let out the breath she’d taken in on accident, mouth gone somewhat slack. Gabriella laughed. “Maybe I should’ve _called_ before showing up like this. Your mouth is open, you know.”

The husk snapped her mouth shut, giving what she hoped looked like a disapproving scowl rather than more of an embarrassed frown. “ _Of course you’d start by saying something like that,_ ” she sighed.

“Were you hoping that I’d say something different?”

" _I was hoping you’d explain yourself._ ”

Gabriella sat down in front of the husk instead of beside her, keeping in the monster’s sight and attention. Her lips slowly pulled up into a smirk. “I wanted to see you. So I came.”

The husk blinked. “ _What?_ ”

Gabriella let out another laugh, tilting her head back, then looking at the sky as though noticing it for the first time. “Sorry, that sounded dramatic, didn’t it? You wanted an explanation, and I assume that means with a certain amount of seriousness.” She shifted, and looked the husk in the eyes. “What I said isn't untrue, but there's more to it than that. I started thinking about something, wondering, and I couldn't get it out of my mind. Can't sleep very well like that, can I?" She smiled thinly. "Not that I don't usually have that problem anyway.”

 _Sleeping problems,_ the husk noted thoughtfully. _I have to remember anything like that she might allow me to know, it could be useful in the future. It’s harder when you can’t just look into someone’s mind and know everything about them._

"I'm not sure what you'll think of it, now that I'm actually here," Gabriella continued, pursing her lips. "Leaped out of bed like a maniac, convincing myself I knew exactly how you'd react," She took a breath. " _Now_ \- now I'm not as confident." She closed her eyes for a few moments, then opened one eye, peering at the husk significantly.

The husk thought she looked rather silly, and breathed out a faint chuckle. " _Is that so?_ You're _nervous?_ "

"Yes," Gabriella said, raising an eyebrow. She furrowed her brows very soon after. "Don't look at me like that. It happens," she sighed. "...rarely, it happens rarely, but not never. That's what counts."

 _Don't look at me like that, she says,_ the husk thought gleefully. _Still insisting she can understand my expressions. She's so much more expressive than I am, she has to know that. Maybe she uses exaggerated emotions on purpose._ " _Fine, you're nervous,_ " the husk gave in, making dismissive hand gestures. " _You shouldn't be, you are someone I am least likely to have a bad reaction to. Out with it, please, as I cannot see into your mind with my bindings- and you've certainly made me curious. I've been sitting here alone for hours, and now you've poked at my boredom._ " The husk sucked in air between her teeth. " _I want to know._ "

Gabriella watched her for a second, before she tilted her head, and smiled, really quite wickedly. "Wouldn't it be interesting if I just left you alone after telling you all of that?"

And for a minute, the husk wondered if all of it had been an act. " _I would never speak to you again,_ " the husk replied coldly, after processing the thought.

Gabriella put her hands up, and gained an apologetic expression as quickly as she had gotten the wicked one. "Sorry," she said with a guilty grin and slight cringe. "I couldn't help myself. I had to try that! I mean, think of the temptation..."

" _The temptation to use cruelty with me after I had opened myself up to you?_ " The husk said, through gritted teeth.

"No," Gabriella quickly corrected. "To see how you'd react. Not for the sake of cruel pleasure, but for the sake of curiosity."

" _You,_ " the husk breathed. " _really are something else, aren't you?_ "

"I don't know if that was a compliment or an insult," Gabriella said bluntly. "But I really do apologize. It won't happen again- now that I've seen it, it doesn't need to. I can't guarantee something similar won't happen, though. My doing something to get a reaction." She lifted her hands up from her side, and took the husk's burnt hands in her own before the creature could protest. "I want to see everything, know everything about you." Her eyes glittered with passion. "And that is part of why I am here tonight."

The husk felt the warmth of someone else's palms on her own for the first time, the first time since she had become a monster, and felt any words she had been about to use completely leave her mind. She couldn't think, at least not about anything proper. _Hands,_ she thought, eyes flicking downward and staying locked there, _her hands are touching mine, she's touching me, she's touching me_ willingly _-_

" _What time is it?_ " The husk heard her own voice croak.

Gabriella did another head tilt, which made her hold a strong resemblance to an owl. "Time?" She echoed. "What does time matter right now?" She said, giggling suddenly. She looked down pointedly to their hands. "Is it this? Did I catch you off guard?" She sounded very excited by the possibility. _Of course she would, another reaction to see, wasn't it?_

" _No,_ " the husk said too quickly. " _I'm fine with it._ "

"I didn't expect you to be," Gabriella said, eyes calculating. "...It was three in the morning when I got out of bed to come here," she added coolly.

 _Damn her,_ the husk thought in frustration. _Damn it all, but especially her. I don’t know if I should be angry or happy about anything anymore._

Gabriella squeezed the monster’s hands. "You still want to know, don't you?" She asked, tempting the husk again. “What kept me up and made me come here.”

The husk nodded stiffly, having to use extra willpower to keep her eyes from where they were touching. It was subtle at first, the other woman standing so close, but it kept getting more obvious, more bold. _I don't know what that means. That's the problem._

 _The problem is not that she is touching me,_ the husk finally admitted to herself. _No, that is the opposite of a problem. The problem is that I don't know why._

_I'm not used to not knowing what people are thinking._

The husk could see Gabriella's mind working behind those passionate eyes of hers. So much happening that the husk couldn't see, but knew was there. " _Yellow eyes,_ " She said softly, not realizing she was speaking out loud.

"Unnatural looking, aren't they?" Gabriella said, raising her brows expectantly.

" _Maybe,_ " The husk agreed. " _But you're definitely human._ "

"I hope that isn't meant to be comforting," Gabriella said, tone amused.

" _Why shouldn't it be?_ "

"It shouldn't. Humans are the worst thing one could be," Gabriella explained, very calmly, as if to a child. "To be born as one, to be so obviously stuck as one of their kind," she gave a smile with a very certain and sharp unpleasantness behind it. "is very far from _comforting_ , isn't it?"

The husk took in the words with a slight feeling of coldness inside. Gabriella's hands felt less warm now, and they were just limp, not holding on anymore. _I've learned something else today. That doesn't mean I have to feel good about learning it._

"Did that scare you?" Gabriella whispered.

The husk stared silently for a moment, head empty again. _Did it?_ She asked herself. The answer came almost immediately. " _No._ "

Gabriella's coldness melted away to warmth again, with an uncomfortable amount of ease, seeming pleased with the reaction. She gripped the husk's hands in her own fiercely. "Good answer," she said in a low tone. Then she switched back to a ‘normal’ tone. It was hard to tell which moods and tones were the most normal for her anymore. "Don't you think it's about time I tell you what I came here for, then?"

“ _I think that’d be best_ ,” the husk muttered.

“I bribed subject two again,” Gabriella said, licking her lips.

The husk opened her mouth and closed it. “ _Again?_ ”

“Yes, _again,_ ” Gabriella said, smirking. “I would’ve thought that was obvious.”

“ _I had my suspicions,_ ” the husk admitted. She wondered how Gabriella had so much luck convincing subject two to do things for her, what she bribed him with.

“Anyway, I did that so you could do something,” The doctor continued slowly. “...If you’re comfortable with it, of course.”

“ _Out with it already,_ ” The husk barked.

Gabriella jumped a bit, then laughed. “Patience! I’m trying to be careful here, just in case you don’t want to go along with this.”

“ _Stop being careful._ ”

Gabriella peered at the monster for a few moments, another eerie smile filling her face. “Am I being given permission?”

“ _For now._ ” The husk wasn’t one to cut off things she might want in the future. Always keep your options open.

“Good answer, once again,” Gabriella praised, pride in her voice.

“ _If it’s so good, reward me by telling me what you bribed subject two to do._ ”

“I won’t play around any longer,” Gabriella said with a reassuring smile, although the husk doubted she was completely done with that. “I had him take away the restrictions on your ability to change appearances.”

The husk’s breath caught in her throat. “ _What?_ ” She whispered.

“Hmm? Do you want me to repeat it? It means you can look however you want now-”

“ _No, I understood that,_ ” The husk said. “ _I meant_ why? _Why would you do that for me? Do you even know what this really means to me?_ ”

Gabriella just smiled. “I’ll tell you that in a minute too. I know, more _waiting_ , but I assume you want to try out the freedom? And I want to see what your preferred form looks like.”

“ _I might look odd while changing forms,_ ” The husk said, concerned. “ _I don’t know what it’ll look like, as I never looked in a mirror when I did it, I just know the end results._ ”

“I don’t care,” Gabriella said. “If you don’t like the idea of me watching, I won’t, but if it’s only about my comfort there really isn’t an issue. I will be fascinated rather than uncomfortable. I always will.”

“ _If you say so,_ ” The husk agreed nervously, trying to pretend the doctor wasn’t there so she could concentrate on changing her form. However, Gabriella’s words left her reeling again. Her chest ached painfully and her mind sung with joy, somehow at the same time.

The husk hadn’t had to actually make the conscious effort to change forms in a very long time. Years, to be exact. Not since she’d been captured by subject three and anchored down, bound by his, and in his the organization's, rules. Except they couldn’t stop her from privately finding and speaking with dreamers, giving them prophecies and advice. That was part of something more powerful, something she couldn’t even choose to stop doing herself, much less be stopped by someone else. They could stop her from giving away their secrets in those visits, though.

There was a block on her mind, which stopped her from looking into the minds of people like Gabriella Conway, stopped her from seeing too much of what the future held for the orginization. It was a humiliating and shameful thing. Yet not being able to see into Gabriella’s mind, to see everything she had been from her birth and everything she would be, that made their interactions more human- but also extremely terrifying and uncertain.

The prophet with many voices saw all. The husk saw nothing. She became a different being depending on where she was, who she was with.

And yet. Gabriella had just told her to combine those two beings in one place. Could she possibly be both of them at the same time, the husk and the prophet? Who was she truly? If not in a dream, and if not bound, what would she be?

She thought, for a brief second, of Winston Blair. Winston, who had so many different opposing views of the world and himself in his mind that it was hard to tell which ones were true. Who criticized and manipulated, who loved and self-sacrificed. He seemed to be two people as well, but his different sets of self seemed to exist more peacefully and fittingly than hers did. The husk weeped over the loss of the prophet, glorified the prophet, and the prophet pretended the husk didn’t exist, that she was above the husk.

But the last time they had spoken, Winston had given her another self. _The nurse._

The nurse. Someone human. Someone who inspired happiness in others. Who was not above others, like the prophet, or below them, like the husk- but equal.

If she, the one caught between identifying as the husk and the prophet, would want to settle on anything, it would be being the nurse. She could take on other personas when necessary, but at the end of everything, she would want to be the nurse. And she was.

The nurse smiled gently as she felt the changes happen. Burnt skin healing, the soft fabric of her white suit covering her, short black hair at her head that tickled and covered her ears. Her mask was firmly and safely at her face, blank all but for the slightest curves to show possible features. Her fingers absently moved in the white gloves, feeling, testing the movements. It was different this time. She could feel so many things, felt aware of every tiny movement she made, how things brushed against her. It wasn’t usually like this, with either the husk or the prophet. But of course, it wouldn’t be, would it? She was the nurse right then, learning all the new senses that came with that.

It was exhilarating, to put it simply.

The nurse felt a cold breeze, and shivered. She looked down, realizing she’d stood up at some point and that Gabriella was gazing up at her intently, a stunned look on her face, pupils blown.

“ _...What did it look like?_ ” The nurse asked, for lack of anything better to say. She didn’t want to be overcome with nervousness again, but it was hard not to be. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realised she only had one voice this time. Not the many voices, and not the single broken growls and hisses of the husk, either. It was hard for her to explain it. It seemed to flow and _float_ , in a way.

“There was bright white, ah, energy in the air, for lack of a better word,” Gabriella murmured. “It _sang_. It’s still singing, I think. No, wait,” she sucked in a breath of air and smiled, dazed. “that’s your voice.”

“ _My voice sounds like singing?_ ” The nurse shifted slightly. “ _I suppose I can accept that description_ ,” She said, secretly delighted.

Gabriella stood up, looking at the nurse with an expression she didn’t understand. “It’s beautiful,” She said, grinning, eyes half closed but still sharp and intent, still giving off an odd feeling. “ _You’re_ beautiful.” The nurse’s shoulders stiffened, but Gabriella laughed and continued before she could say anything in response. “No, don’t start. I’m not just saying that because you’re supposedly better looking than before. Your form makes no difference to me- but it clearly makes a difference to you. You like looking this way better than you like looking another way, you’ve chosen this form, and that’s obviously important. It’s not about what I prefer, it’s about you. If this makes you feel strong and beautiful, you should be able to have it. One could go on all day about how beauty is a social construct and you’re beautiful no matter what you look like, but that’s not quite true, is it?” Gabriella paused. “You’re beautiful right now, more so than ever, because it’s what you’ve chosen, what you want. Your happiness, and the fact that this makes you feel so much more comfortable, that’s what makes it beautiful. Things like that go a long way. A person who is smiling is more attractive than a person who isn’t, etcetera etcetera.” She paused again, but this time it was more purposefully done than thoughtful, and she had a look of smug satisfaction. “You’re glowing. Both literally and figuratively. It’s better than I’d hoped for, far better.”

The nurse fell down in a heap on the grass and shook with embarrassment, shock, pride, and- and a surge of _affection_ for the doctor who had said such unbelievably _wonderful_ words to someone like her. Not ‘the doctor,'  _her_ doctor. The nurse was sure if she had a face it would be hot and flushed.

Gabriella sat down, rather calm in reaction to the nurse flopping over, and watched the other. “Although, I have to say, I would’ve liked to to be able to see your facial expressions. I could make things out with your other form, but this one has that pesky mask. I’m just hoping you’re at least a little pleased, and that I didn’t give you a heart attack.”

The nurse found the doctor’s hand with her own, squeezed it for a moment, and then moved it up to her chest, letting Gabriella feel the frantic pounding there and hoping she would understand. “ _Heart’s still going,_ ” The nurse whispered. “ _More so than ever. But that doesn’t seem to have caused a heart attack yet._ ”

Gabriella blinked, licked her lips, and blinked again. “Ah,” She said significantly.

The nurse laughed softly. “ _How intellectual._ ”

Gabriella raised an eyebrow and smiled, but wasn’t distracted by the jab. She leaned over the nurse, peering at her, then putting her ear to the being’s chest, head tucked just under the nurse’s chin.

The nurse, of course, squeaked in reaction to this happening without warning, but settled down again and allowed it- even if she was still silently flustered. She had been worried about the doctor hearing this when she first appeared, now she had practically invited her to listen. _I want her to hear it. How can I not, with the way she looks at me and the things she says to me?_

“ _I do wish I had a face,_ ” The nurse started saying. “ _Sometimes I’ve thought of just creating one. But that wouldn’t be right. I had a face when I was human, and the thought of my human self is… special. Apparently seeing my face inspired happiness in others. It might be different if I was a bad person in my previous life, or never human at all- but knowing I had something good makes me want to save that. I would like a face, but it would have to be my face. I want to treasure old memories as much as I want to create new ones._ ”

“I could help you,” Gabriella said suddenly.

“ _You could? You’d… want to?_ ”

“I think I’ve proven I want to do things like that already,” Gabriella said. The nurse couldn’t see her face, but knew she must’ve been grinning again. “Haven’t I? This sounds important to you, and interesting for me. Find my beautiful monster’s identity, give her a face so I can see all those delicious possible expressions. It’ll give me something to do when I’m not seeing you, which is good, because everything other than you is usually _boring._ ”

“Boring?”

“Dull. Bland. _Boring._  I hope you don’t think that’s too much of a _harsh word_. I find it to be accurate. Things are either boring or tiring, people constantly pestering me and forcing me to pretend I have opinions on choices they want to make,” Gabriella sighed dramatically. “I don’t get along with humans, not really. More things involving you are welcome.”

The nurse reached up a hand to pet Gabriella’s hair soothingly. It was strange to see her get frustrated. “ _If you really feel that way, I’d be grateful. I already owe you so much._ ”

Gabriella went silent for a while. “Do you call yourself by a different name in this form?”

“ _Oh,_ ” The nurse said, glad for the question. “ _Yes. You never called me ‘the husk’, did you?_ ”

“It sounded degrading to me, but I didn’t want to demand you choose another either- so I just didn’t call you anything too specific.”

“ _You may think of this form as ‘The Nurse,’ if you wish to._ ”

“Oh yes, I do like that quite a lot more,” Gabriella said, pulling herself up and smirking down at the nurse, false stars shining in the sky above and framing her face again. “ _Nurse._ Wonderful. A title that implies healing, care, and intellect. Not to mention it also double as a kinky thing.” She chuckled. “Pleased to finally have something proper to call you, Nurse!”

The nurse turned her head in embarrassment. She didn’t know what was going on anymore, but she thought, that _perhaps_ , she’d fallen just the slightest bit in love that night.

“ _Gabriella,_ ” she said quietly. “ _could you tell me about these stars?_ ”

“Anything for an excuse to stay a little while longer, my dear.”


	48. No right choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyril is generally gross and hard to even think about trusting, and Winston experiences a lot of different emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man. Ohhhhhhhh man. Wow. Look at this. I did it. I actually updated this thing. This is crazy. Am I imagining this? Is this really happening? I'm not sure. Christ, I think this really is happening. Hopefully I'll continue to start to update this again. I know someone's going to whine that I update after months of not touching this and it's not even a Jack and Jeff chapter, but I literally do not care. Everyone needs to understand that I have this story in a certain order in my head, and this bit is what came next. I don't just stick whatever in wherever. That's just how it is. 
> 
> Don't like it, again, I don't care, I'm just excited to be updating it at all. That's a big deal to me. I'm terrible with continuing projects, but I'm doing this again. I'm happy about that. A lot of what this fanfiction actually is, is me testing if I can carry on an interesting story with a large cast of characters and multiple plots. It's a rather successful feeling test.
> 
> This stupid chapter took a few days to get right. I actually tried to start writing this chapter months ago, but it didn't sound right then either. Because I was writing it from Winston's perspective. I switched over to Cyril's perspective for the first time, and it started flowing. 
> 
> Uh, warning, Cyril is gross. Cyril is really really gross and I'm not sure if I like him or hate him. He's so gross. A part of me does actually like him /because/ he's an unapologetically unpleasant guy. Sigh. None of my characters are completely 'good guys' or 'bad guys', though, just people. I try to explore all sorts of different personal moral systems (or lack of moral systems) with my writing.
> 
> This is 7 pages long and 3,801 words. That's a pretty decent length, I think. The line I picked out from this for the chapter title works well, too.

“Winston, this is utterly fantastic! For me, this is- the best luck I’ve had in months! This is going to-” Cyril choked, as his gushing was cut off by the hand at his neck. He was being slammed up against the wall of the back room they'd returned to. He remembered that logically, he didn’t need to breath all that much, but it threw him off for a second. Still, a laugh bubbled up in his throat as he watched his object of fascination through fluttering eyelashes.

“Don’t speak too soon, Cyril,” Winston said with a tight, grim smile. “As delighted I am with scientific discoveries, having them in _your_ hands isn’t something that seems to end well. You understand."

“So,” Cyril said, shifting slightly, trying to make it so he could talk a little easier. He rested his hands, which had been dangling at his sides at first, on Winston’s chest. The other loosened his grip a bit, but didn’t let Cyril go. Not like he expected him to. Not like he exactly wanted him to. Being touched by Winston definitely wasn't _undesirable_ , no, not even if the touch was hostile. “...what are you planning on doing, then? How would you go about stopping me from doing what I please?”

Winston's mouth twitched, eyes flickering down at the hands on his chest briefly, then back up to Cyril. “I’m thinking about it,” Winston said, flashing a patronizing smile. “And I’m sure I’ll come up with something eventually. Always do. Until then, I’ll just hold you here so you can’t mess anything up. You look better like this, anyway."

Cyril sighed, offering a sheepish grin. “Winston, uh, this doesn’t change anything. I still want you… to be on my ‘side’! Yes. I’ve worked way too hard already to not still feel that way. I want to help you. But maybe you could give back a little now? Let me off on this. I need this. I need the advantage of having found this. Anyway, what do you _really_ expect to do? You could get rid of my guards and guests, but what about me?” He was silent for a moment, raising his eyebrows skeptically. “What can you _actually_ _do to me_ , Winston Blair?”

“...You know, I think I really do hate you, Cyril. Truly, I do,” Winston said slowly. “Everything that comes out of your mouth is oh so self-assured, and there's something gross about it all. _I hate it._ ” He was relaying this information in a calm tone, but his eyes were narrowed.

“For one, maybe you feel that way because you know I’m right,” Cyril said quickly. “You _need_ me, Blair! You can be resentful all you want, but you need my help right now. And secondly, the main reason you hate me so much… it’s because I’m the one you’ve based your whole persona on these days, isn’t that right?” He whispered the end with a certain amount of twisted delight. “Isn’t that just, so, so funny…” Cyril’s heartbeat had sped up considerably, his face feeling warm. Winston hadn’t noticed, and Cyril wasn’t sure if he should laugh at that or not.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d denied it already, to himself, right to Winston’s face too, so he really shouldn’t act on it now.

Cyril couldn’t help but squirm a little. And then, he said, in a very small and very pleased voice, "I'm like a constant reminder of any horrible things you've done all this time. You can't hide from your reasons for guilt when you have to _stare them in a mirror._ "

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" Winston snarled, pulling Cyril back then banging him up against the wall again, rougher this time. "You don't know anything about me! Stop trying to get in my head!" There was fire in those eyes now. His grip on Cyril had gotten tighter and tense again, and Cyril coughed a little, but he couldn't stop _smiling._ Was he really able to bring this kind of behavior out in Winston? It was just like before, just like that day he’d taken the cure. Possibly the best move of his life. And there Winston had been, utterly hysterical with him, eyes just like they were now, trying to get his destructive feelings out of his system, trying so badly to hurt Cyril, and _not being able to_ \- it felt just as good on Cyril's end now as it had all those years ago.

How long had it been now? Eight years? Eight years, and here they were again, just like before, except now- now nobody was going to interrupt. He had all the attention to himself, all this fierce unstable attention, and if Cyril lived for anything, it was _attention._ And he’d been longing for Winston’s specific attention again. Cyril had thought he wanted to give apologies, wanted Winston to like him, feel connected in the same way- and he still did want that. But this. For some reason, even with supposed hate as the passion fuelling Cyril being touched, his being given attention- well, attention was attention.

And it was doing things to him.

 _This is a bad move,_ Some small part of him whispered. _But I really, really don’t care,_ the stronger part of him added. _Sometimes you just have to get a little instant gratification._

Cyril opened his mouth, a shaky smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Shut up? That's what you want? I can do that. Here, you’ll just have to- you’ll just have to, ah, help me out a little, though...”

Winston's face flashed between disgusted and confused, and he seemed to be about to protest, but Cyril was gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly, and tugging the other man forward with his full strength for the first time- which definitely caught Winston off guard. And then he was finally  _close enough_ , and Cyril was leaning into him, ignoring the fingers still at his neck, and his mouth is crashing into Winston’s and it’s fucking aggressive as hell and Cyril hasn’t done this in forever and _god._

For a second it’s fine, it’s perfect. Cyril’s entire body is giving off heat, and he’s biting and tasting the person that he’s been basically infatuated with for forever, and it feels _fantastic_. Winston’s not responding but he’s not pushing him away either, which Cyril takes as a good sign, so he presses all of himself up against the other man and his hands are going places and-

And then he’s on the floor, just like that. Barely even felt it happen. Winston’s reflexes were better than he thought they were, and the realization of that only makes him _more_ giddy for whatever reason. Even though he’s on the cold, dirty ground instead of up there on equal ground like he should be, and Winston _clearly_ isn’t happy about what just happened.

Cyril wanted to make himself care, really, he did, but he couldn’t. So he just let himself lay sprawled loosely on the floor, in a pleasure fueled daze. Only after he let himself bask in his bliss for a generous amount of time did he finally look up at Winston.

Winston, hair ruffled, clothes slightly out of place, brilliantly freckled as usual and with a disoriented look on his face and flushed skin, was gorgeous, Cyril thought.

Cyril can’t remember ever having been attracted to men before. Or anyone at all, for that matter. Sexuality and romance had been a mystery to him, one that he’d been perfectly happy to leave unsolved. It all had seemed so tedious. But Winston- oh no, he didn’t apply to any of that. Cyril felt a lot of things towards Winston he was sure he’d never felt before, and that weren’t quite normal. He accepted all that. He _reveled_ in it.

“You-” Winston said, with a sort of shakiness to his voice Cyril hadn't previously known he could have. The man standing above him looked confused, uncomfortable, even something Cyril might dare to call a little betrayed. “What? What _was_ that? Why would you- _what?_ ”

For a moment, with him reacting in that way, Cyril saw Winston in a new light, one of some sort of… innocence. Cyril had done something Winston hadn't expected him to do, and it'd flipped some kind of interesting little switch. Perhaps making him closer to who he’d been back in those days. Back when he and Eyrich had been inseparable, affectionate, rather _annoying_ saps with each other. Cyril hated thinking about that. He wondered if they were like that now, since Winston had found the oh-so perfect doctor again. Or maybe… _maybe_ the good doctor doesn’t like Winston’s new personality. The one created in Cyril’s image, Cyril, who Eyrich definitely hadn’t liked in the slightest.

Cyril licked his lips. “I suppose I got a little… caught up in the moment,” He said quietly, gaze boring into Winston. He couldn’t keep the next words from tumbling out of his mouth, and the smile from coming back to his face. “Did you hate it that much?”

Winston cringed, expression strange mix of emotion Cyril didn’t understand. “I don’t… but didn’t you say you weren’t-” _What? That I wasn't in love with you?  
_

Cyril sat up a bit, watching Winston with a sort of mocking humor. “Did I actually ever say that? Hmm. Maybe I didn’t realize it completely myself until you were up that close. But also, maybe I lied a little, Winston. Thought you knew I was a liar. Takes one to know one, right? Someone who’s supposed to be some master manipulator now, doing everything for his cause and not worrying about hurting anyone’s feelings, I didn’t expect that kind of person to just stand there looking so _hurt_ and _uncomfortable_ over something so simple. What’s wrong, Winston? Why is this particular thing making you so upset, after everything else you’ve done? Is it because you _didn’t hate it?_ ”

Winston’s demeanor shifted immediately as soon as Cyril had spoken, into the more familiar, more dangerous one. “You know, expecting me to team up with you after you start talking about how much lying you do, that’s not very smart,” He muttered.

_He’s avoiding really responding to that? So be it. We both have all the time in the world._

Cyril stood up, brushing himself off before slinking back over to Winston, getting in his personal space. “That could be right, but perhaps I think that the quality of my offers to you will win over chances I’m lying… You like to gamble with your luck, don’t you, Winston?”

Winston’s breath hitched, and Cyril’s lips twitched. He was _getting somewhere here after all._

“I’ve done things for you already, and you know the explanations for them are realistic sounding with what’s been happening. I’m not lying about that. I’ve already done things for you without you having done anything for me in return yet, you see that, right? And I still have more use in me! I can get you safe passage into the _hospital_ , Winston.”

Winston’s deep blue eyes lit up all at once with clear recognition, and that definitely confirmed a few things for Cyril. “How did you know that I wanted-”

“It’s the only logical conclusion,” Cyril whispered, although secretly proud at having figured it out. He hadn’t been completely sure, but now he was. “Otherwise… _otherwise_ why wouldn’t Eyrich have made a flashy comeback before now? Why wouldn’t we all be cured and happy and all that idealistic _bullshit_ I know you adore, seeing he could’ve been recreating the cure in secret? Why would it have taken so long for you to find him, rather than him just seeking you out? It couldn’t be because he’d given up, not the Eyrich we all knew back then. No, I know why. I know _exactly_ why.” He leaned into Winston’s ear. “ _Because he can’t remember._ ”

Dearest doctor got infected. How _ironic._

Winston slumped a little. “You make it sound easy. Why hasn’t anyone else noticed?”

Cyril leaned back a little and laughed. “Maybe they have. They just don’t know anything for sure, even I wasn’t positive until you confirmed it. Not to mention, they’ve been moving on to different things, they haven’t just been wasting time searching for Eyrich over the years. They have you to do the work of that. But I’m different. I’m more individually invested in your little adventures, and I pay more attention to the small details, the personal ones. Everyone else is so caught up in the technical things, but I like getting inside people’s _heads_. It’s simply the best way of going about things like this. Don’t you agree?” _Clearly, you do. You use the same methods, learned the same methods. Getting inside everyone’s heads. Except, it seems, when someone gets inside your head… you can’t handle it. And I think I’m starting to truly understand why._

_I’m the only one. I’m the only one who knew Winston from before. Eyrich can’t remember, his parents are dead by his own hands, and Winston’s avoided contact with anyone else who could’ve otherwise known him from before he was cured._

_So that means it's just me._

Cyril was quiet for a moment, letting that little deduction sink in and trying not to let the excitement over it show on his face. He’d use it later. “Anyway, you’re hoping going back to that place will trigger some flashbacks, or something, correct? Give him back at least the important memories?”

Winston scoffed, a slight smirk pulling at his lips. “Sure, you could say that. He’s had some flashbacks of that time already, mostly disturbing things, so it wouldn’t be that impossible of a hope. Especially not with a mind like his. Your people did experimentation on that, right? A genius type infected with the virus has a far better chance at bringing back things.” He stopped for a moment, and looked downward, narrowing his eyes. “Cyril, how do you have access to the hospital? Bribing more random employees, or something? What’s even _happening_ there? That whole city… has been completely cut off from the rest of the world. It looks like some sort of fucking secret military base now.”

A huge grin spread across Cyril’s face. “ _Bribing_ a _random employee?_ Oh no, Winston. On the other thing, you aren’t so far off, though. It looks like that for a reason. It’s our second largest base, and _I’m in charge of it._ ”

Winston sputtered, snapping his head back up to gape at Cyril. “You? You’re in charge of that fucking place? It’s huge! Seriously, you didn’t answer me! What’s it _for?_ Other than making sure no outsiders stumble on the hospital’s ruins, why do you people want that area?”

Cyril bit his lip to try to keep his grinning down. He was usually perfect with masking his true emotions, but not now. “I think that should be… more of a witness it for yourself sort of thing. It’s better that way. I don’t want to give you too many spoilers, now, do I?” He broke out in a small fit of giggles. “Nooo, it’s far too interesting for that. I think it might answer a few mysteries you’ve had, as well. I don’t want to ruin something like that.” He composed himself again, about as much as he could. “So. Do we have… an alliance?”

“ _Hold on,_ ” Winston snapped, fingers twitching slightly, as if he wanted to punch Cyril or push him up against a wall again. “What are you going to want out of me in exchange for this? Why are you doing this, in general? How do I know this isn’t all a trap?”

“Oh, Winston,” Cyril said, raising his eyebrows and smiling pleasantly. “Even if I wasn’t the one giving you access, walking into that base is going to be a trap no matter _what_ you do. You know that! But you still want to do it, don’t you?”

Winston’s expression fell, and he took a few steps back from Cyril, leaning on a wall and shaking his head to himself, muttering things under his breath.

Cyril went on, all the same, eyes following the other but not otherwise moving himself. “And I already told you the first thing, I want you to let me take charge of the discovery that was just made. I want the rightful credit for catching those thieves, and finding out that they have in fact made a major breakthrough with the cure. Simple enough, isn’t it? You’re probably worried about us instantly weaponizing it, but it wouldn’t happen that _fast._ It wouldn’t happen for additional reasons, as well, reasons you might be finding out soon if you agree to this.”

Winston sighed. It sounded more like he was trying to release all the stress he’d ever felt rather than just a sigh, though. “...You forgot one. Just answer that one question, and I’ll think about it.”

 _I did? Oh, yes… the bigger picture. My long time goals._ “I’ll let you in on a secret. A very big, dangerous secret of mine. You could say I’m telling you this as a show of trust, but it’s also true that if you tried to tell anyone about it it’d be your word over mine- so let’s forget any ideas of doing that, shall we?” Cyril hummed. “I’m not like any of you. I’m not. I don’t care about the cure, who has it and what they use it for... I like the interesting things this whole business stirred up, especially my own power gained from it, but it’s not _my_ main focus.

“I’m playing a _game_ , Winston. The same game I’ve been playing since the start of my life, but I’m not just losing the game anymore. I was always losing. I didn’t have any hope before, I just went through things like I was an empty husk. But then all this happened, and the playing field was suddenly more even than it had ever been! I don’t have a whole lot of goals. One is to have you pay attention to me, Winston, and the other- the other is to make sure the other player in my game loses _every single bit of power they have._ I don’t care if I lose my own power trying, either,  _it doesn’t matter._ The only thing that matters is tearing them down.”

Cyril glanced down at his own hands, which he’d been moving around rapidly as he spoke to better express himself, and realized that they were shaking. He watched them with vague interest. “The person I’m playing with, they’re in it too. Eternity Research Institute. A big part of it, really... And you, Winston. You’re ready to rip that whole orginization to shreds, aren’t you? Which is why I’d like to lend a little assistance, and then sit back to watch the show. You’re my best chance. I want this place broken. If you break it, but leave me untouched, I’ll be able to come back to pick up the pieces afterwards. Then I’ll be seen as its _savior._ All this time obeying orders leading up to this. I love this orginization. I really do, with all of my heart, which is why… I want it. Most of all I want to destroy that person, of course, and taking this from them could be like a trophy, yes, but I do love it on its own as well. I’d take good care of it. I _deserve_ it.”

Cyril looked up at Winston, who wasn’t leaning on the wall anymore, and instead had approached Cyril, eyes large. “Cyril,” Winston said breathlessly. “You’re fucking _crazy._ ”

Cyril burst out laughing, and Winston continued to stare at him. Then he grinned, laced his fingers together in front of him, and narrowed his eyes slightly. “I don’t know, Winston. Is that all you have to say? Don’t you think we’re really quite similar? After hearing all that, don’t you _see it?_ I do. Perhaps our goals aren’t the exact same, but they can be accomplished together. It’s our passion for them that’s the same.”

Winston took in a breath, opened his mouth, then closed it again with a deep frown. He massaged his temples, and ran a hand through his hair, eyes closed too now. “ _Uhhhhhhh,_ ” He half sighed and half groaned. “...Shit.”

Cyril simply raised one eyebrow.

Winston half opened his eyes, a hand still resting in his hair, the other on his hip, and gave Cyril what was decidedly a sulky look. “I’m thinking, okay? Don’t look at me like that! Don’t look at me at all, actually. I’m thinking, Cyril, you’ve given me a lot of shit to fucking think about, alright?” His speech was full of curses, but lacked the previous bite it had had. “...I hate this,” He mumbled. “I feel like there are no right choices.”

Cyril blinked, and crossed his arms. He didn’t stop staring at Winston, but he was quiet and more mild about it. It seemed like he’d managed to break down Winston’s defenses, even if only temporarily.

“But I have to,” Winston said to himself, in a small voice. “I can’t- I have to do it. If I don’t, nobody will. That’s how it is. That’s how it’s been. Yes, that’s… that’s why.”

Cyril frowned in discomfort. _He looks like he could start crying or something with a face and voice like that. That isn’t very fun._

Winston looked up at the ceiling for a few seconds, and when he looked back at Cyril again, his face was wildly different. An unwavering, resolute expression was clear in his face along with the way it shone in his eyes. “I’ll do it. I’ll make an alliance with you, Cyril Morales,” He announced, with sharp determination. “We’ll help each other. And if you make one wrong move, I will make sure you never have to chance to betray me or anyone else ever again, got it?”

_There it is. There’s the electricity._

Cyril’s whole face lit up. He barely even registered the threat attached to the agreement, then, when he did, he said, “You won’t regret this.” _I won him over. I did it. I can hardly believe it._

Cyril eagerly stuck his hand out, thinking Winston might prefer a handshake over them both signing a contract. Winston looked almost surprised by it for a second, then reluctantly clasped Cyril’s hand in his own.

“There will be conditions,” Winston said, squeezing Cyril’s hand. “Many of them.”

Cyril smiled a little unpleasantly, letting his eyes flicker from Winston to their hands then back again. “I know.”

Winston had to pull his own hand away when Cyril refused to let go on his own.

 


End file.
